


I Don't Care What They Say

by aimmyarrowshigh, spibsy (lucy_and_ramona)



Series: Never Never Never Stop for Anyone (Sheylinsonverse) [2]
Category: One Direction (Band), Union J (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bruises, Car Sex, Comeplay, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Exhibitionism, Finger Sucking, Fingerfucking, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Polyamory, Rimming, Size Kink, Threesome - M/M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-24
Updated: 2013-05-24
Packaged: 2017-12-12 20:01:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/815464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aimmyarrowshigh/pseuds/aimmyarrowshigh, https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucy_and_ramona/pseuds/spibsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>George finds his place in the competition and in Harry- and Louis' relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Don't Care What They Say

**Author's Note:**

> **Character/Relationships** : Harry/Louis/George Shelley, mentions of past George/JJ, George/Josh, George/Jaymi, bff!George/Ella  
>  **Warnings** : Explicit sexual content (slash [fingering, oral sex, penetrative sex, comeplay, rimming, threesome, size!kink]) and graphic sexual dialogue. Medium D/s elements. Also probably terrible Britpicking because we did not really care that much since this is crack.  
>  **Disclaimer** : We don't own anything. No claim of knowledge or veracity is made towards anyone in the story and no aspersions or claims of character are to be inferred. We have no connection nor permissions from One Direction, X-Factor, Simon Cowell, SyCo Inc., Sony, ITV, or Columbia Records. No libel intended.

** I Don't Care What They Say **

Ella bounces across George's bed to drape her arms across his shoulders, her chin nestled into the curve of his neck. "Are you seeing them tonight?"

"I don't know," George laughs, wrestling at her arms. "Probably. I don't know. It will depend on how I feel about the show, I expect."

"But last week you felt shit and they made it _all better_ ," Ella teases. She flops down so her head is rested in George's lap and she's cuddling his Curious George monkey to her chest. "I can't believe I know someone who's fucking One Direction. It's like all of my dreams come true."

"Only two of them." George gives her a tickle. "And shouldn't you be dreaming about fucking them yourself?"

"No," Ella says, pulling a face. "People, and me, are more into One Direction fucking each other and other boys. Someday I'm going to write a tell-all book about you and I'll use the brilliant false name 'Jorge' so no one knows who it was."

"You're right, nobody will guess in a million years. Thanks for your discretion." George's lips twitch into half a smile before he smooths his expression out again. "Brilliant, you."

"I _am_ brilliant!" Ella harrumphs and prods George's arm with one accusing finger. "I'm so glad you've finally acknowledged it. I was worrying you'd never notice."

George bends down to kiss the tip of her nose. "We've all noticed your brilliance, Ella. A hundred-to-one odds to beat us all. We've noticed."

"Oh, stop it." Ella wrinkles her nose. "There's nothing certain in the competition. I could have an awful week and forget my words or something and then what? All of a sudden I'm in the bottom two and then I'm gone back home and I'll have to clean toilets for a living."

"I could put in a good word," George offers, "Be Harry Styles' French maid."

"Erm, no thanks, all the same," Ella says. "You've already told me too much to want to get into those cupboards."

"Don't pretend you didn't want to know!" George exclaims, grinning widely at her. "I saw the looks; you would've died of curiosity if I'd kept everything to myself. You know, I'm ordinarily quite stingy with the details of my sex life. You're just special, aren't you?"

Ella claps and beams at him. "I am special! I get to be your overpublicized X Factor romance and everything! It's ruining my life a bit, I'll have you know. Everyone thinks I want to kiss -- " She pokes at his lower lip -- " _That_."

George playfully snaps at her fingers. "Well everyone thinks _I_ want to kiss that." He wriggles his own fingers at her mouth. "Not that I wouldn't, I'm sure you're lovely. I just wish I could talk to you without everyone assuming we're in some clandestine relationship."

"Caroline's already sat me down and we had 'the talk,'" Ella informs him. She air-quotes around 'the talk' and George takes the opportunity to steal the stuffed monkey and roll away from her across the bed; Ella shrieks and chases him, tackling him down against the mattress.

"Good of her, it really is past time you knew about the facts of life, Ella," teases George. "Did she tell you that when Mummy and Daddy love each other very, very much--?"

"No, she told me about when Harry Styles loves getting his kit off very, very much." Ella grabs for the stuffed monkey and George rolls her so their knees are all twisted up together and he's holding himself up on his elbows above her.  
The door to the suite opens.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Josh grouses. "Really? Can't I ever get into my room without finding someone having sex with George?"

George's smile becomes a bit twisted, tight at the edges like a parody of real happiness. "No, actually, I'm afraid every time you open that door you're going to find me with one of my multiple sexual partners. Like Groundhog Day, but in your own personal hell."

Josh doesn't even pretend to keep up the niceties for Ella's sake. "Don't you have any shame?"

"Not particularly." George sounds breezy, but to anyone paying attention it's obvious in his eyes that it's not sincere. "Did you want something?"

"Er, to feel comfortable in my own room?" Josh suggests. "To know that every member of my band is in this competition for the singing and not the sex perks? And we have an interview downstairs in half an hour, so whenever you feel like dismounting Ella, you can join us."

"I never feel like dismounting Ella." George does slide back, though, carefully trying to avoid digging any of his limbs into any of Ella's. "I'll be down in two minutes."

Josh doesn't say a word as he leaves the room again.

After the door's clicked shut behind him, George deflates and his forehead drops to rest on Ella's shoulder.

"I'm sorry about that," he murmurs. "Things are -- tense. Still."

"It's not right," Ella says firmly. She pets George's hair, but he rolls away and sits up on the edge of the bed. "It's not right he treats you like that. What do the other J's say?"

"They stay out of it, really," George says. "Jaymi and Josh have known each other ages and JJ hasn't been with them much longer than I have, but Josh never had a problem with him, I guess."

"That's because JJ's never challenged him for lead," Ella says firmly. "Putting you off your game before the show last week right before curtain was a cruel move and dicking with your solo only hurt his own chances, too. It's just not right, George. You deserve to be here, and you deserve to be in the group."

"I guess." George clears his throat. "Sorry for ducking out of our talking time; I totally forgot about that interview." He sighs. "Maybe Josh is right. Not about most things, mind you, but I could probably focus more on the professional part of things."

Ella smiles sadly at him before reaching up to fix his fringe tenderly. "You're far and away the biggest popstar in the competition, George. Maybe we should all be trying to have a bit more fun."

"Be a bit hard to have as much fun as I have, t'be fair." A small smile curves George's lips. "Did I mention I've had sex with two members of One Direction at the same time?"

Ella gives a despairing, longing wail and sinks down onto his bed again. "Ugh, whenever you do mention it, my insides weep."

"I bet other bits of you weep as well." He laughs, batting away her hands when she smacks at him. "Does my hair look alright? Should I change my shirt, do you think?"

"You look adorable," Ella says. "Angel-faced and pure. And a bit like a tiny Harry Styles."

George heaves a beleaguered sigh. "I'm hoping they'll get off that, soon. People keep saying that when I've slept with him, and I'm starting to feel really narcissistic about the whole thing. Could I be developing a complex?"

"Have you actually been kissing your own reflection?" Ella asks, "Because Rylan does every time he passes a mirror and I'd say that if he doesn't have a complex, then you don't have a complex. Probably. Maybe everyone has a Harry Styles complex, though. I could ask Caroline."

"You do that." George slips off the bed and straightens his shirt, presenting himself for her perusal. "Really, though, I don't want to look like a dick for..." He blinks. "Wherever this interview is going to be publicated."

"You really don't," Ella promises. "You really do look adorable, angel-faced, and pure. That's part of what's caused the en-masse internal weeping of Britain's women about you. And if you really want to get off the Harry comparisons, ask for a change of hair color at the studio today and see how it goes."

George's mouth twists in thought. "I'd look awful as a blond, though. And I think they want to keep visual unity or something, which is why we all have the same trousers in different shades of olive green. We'll see, though. Might be good for a change."

Ella kisses his forehead. "That's the spirit. Now go! Be charming! Be adorable! Don't let Josh walk all over you!"

George gives her a fond smile and leaves. He's halfway down to the lobby in the elevator before he realizes that he's left her alone with the Curious George monkey, and that means he'll never see it again now. 

Their interview is for TalkTalk, which means at least that it won't air anywhere outside of the internet, so there isn't as much of a chance for him to make a fool of himself. There's the usual reiteration that last week didn't go to plan and so they've been rehearsing like mad this week so as not to disappoint their fans -- and then they're asked, _describe each other in one word_.

Jaymi's described as bossy, first, which... Well, George can definitely see that. Jaymi's really nice and sweet on the whole, but he gets stroppy if he doesn't get his own way. The microphone moves to Josh and George prepares himself for something awful - should've known better, really, because Josh is taking this competition very seriously and wouldn't disparage him on _camera_.

"George is... cheeky," concludes Josh, his eyes set on George's. He has a half-smile on his face and George can't see it as anything but smarmy, but he thinks he keeps his pleasant expression on well enough.

He can't keep down the nervous, tense laugh that bubbles up in his throat and then the microphone is passed to him and fuck. He has to describe Josh.

Judgmental. Jealous. Jackass. _Triple J_ , there.

"I'm gonna go with the usual... womanizer," George settles on, looking Josh squarely in the face.

Josh mutters _that **word**_ under his breath and drops his head as Jaymi launches into a story about how JJ is a bit slow, always "off on Planet JJ," and things are saved in the interview -- but George notices that it's a story he wasn't there for, wasn't part of the group, and he, like Pix, has to laugh like an outsider at the antics of the three friends.

The longer time goes on, he's supposed to feel more integrated with the group, but he's starting to wonder if that's ever actually going to happen, or if he's always going to be the idiot trying to pretend he has any idea what's going on. It's not like he hasn't seen the comments on the internet, he knows people think they're only doing well because he has a good face. _Fans_ have said it's only because of his face!

Which is all well and good, but not really what he wants when he's in this competition for the music.

They all wave to the camera and shout their goodbyes, and then the signal's given that the interview is over. George lets his face fall because he doesn't have to put on the front anymore, and sighs before offering the interviewer a smile. "Thanks again for having us," he says smoothly.

She smiles at him. "I really have been looking forward all week."

She reaches out to shake his hand -- and George comes away with a slip of paper tucked swiftly onto his palm. When he unfolds it, there's just a mobile number and a winking smiley face.

Subtle.

Still, it pays to have ins with people in this industry. He gives her a bland smile and slips the piece of paper into his pocket. "Hope you weren't disappointed?"

"Not at all," she assures him. She reaches out and ruffles his fringe and George keeps his smile on. "You're all just what I figured. You remind me of someone... d'you know who?"

George shrugs his shoulders up and offers, "Harry Styles?"

"Very much like Harry Styles," Pix confirms. "You're both quite cheeky. Have you met him?"

"Yeah, we met all of One Direction last week," George says, studiously avoiding everyone's gaze but Pix's. "They're top lads, gave us some really good advice. Can't really go wrong when you're getting tips from the biggest boy band in the world, can you?"  
"Did you only get the tips, George?" Josh asks. "I'd've thought they'd make you take it all. The advice, I mean."

Through a combination of sheer will and a hard pinch of his own thigh through his pocket, George keeps a straight face. "Well, if we'd taken all of the advice, we probably wouldn't have done so badly last week," he offered. "Maybe we should all take tips from them. Might improve our performance."

"Georgie has a point there," Jaymi says, and slings an arm around George's shoulders. "This week, we've really need to be on our game. Together. As Union J."

George has never felt so grateful.

He slips his own arm around Jaymi's waist and manages to make his smile look a bit more real. "I think we'll smash it," he says firmly. "It'll be great."

After Pix finally leaves, Jaymi actually leans in to whisper in George's ear. "Y'alright? I know he can be a bit. Well, brutal. It's just a defense mechanism."

"Yeah, I'm fine," George promises. "We are gonna smash it. I think I'm going to get a change of hairstyle, though, too. Maybe the comparisons will lighten up then and it'll be a more, you know. I don't want to upstage anyone."

Jaymi offers him a genuine sympathetic expression, or it looks genuine, at least. Jaymi's been good to him so far, though, so George is pretty sure it's sincere. "Yeah, go for it, if you want. Whatever you think's best."

"I'll try it out," George says. "Maybe not a full cut, just in case."

"They'd just give you a quiff." Jaymi rolls his eyes. "And we've already got two out of four."

George has to give a genuine laugh at that and squeezes Jaymi's waist. They separate off and George fishes his mobile out of his pocket. The scrap of paper with Pix's number flutters out with it, and he leaves that where it falls, because there's a message waiting from Harry Styles himself.

_How are you faring today? .xx Caroline says you've a few features to film for xtra yet? what's that about?_

He's still in disbelief that Harry's number is in his phone, that he can actually text back _Harry Styles_ , but after careful deliberation, he thinks he manages a message that doesn't sound as incredulous as it could.

_yeah good!! haha just did an interview with talktalk and the interviewer gave me her number after? my life xx_

He tries not to think about how much thought he put into the number of Xs at the end of that message. It would only depress him.

The screen lights up again just moments after, and George brightens that it seems he's found a spare moment that neither One Direction nor Union J are needed for desperate popstar business and he can actually talk to Harry (and Louis, maybe, if they're together) without waiting hours for a response and growing increasingly despondent that this time, it won't come at all.

_YOUR life? I've walked out of tesco with mystery numbers in my boxes of fruit! :)_

George smiles. He already feels better. Is this some sort of magical Harry thing, where he can make people feel less like shit just by interacting with them?

_surely you must be used to that by now tho! been like two years for you hasn't it?_

_Nah_ , Harry texts back straight off. _until Cazza people mainly pretended they found me too young. except Louis of course. he says hello! .x_

So Louis _is_ there. George feels his face grow warm at the thought. For some reason he's so very much more keen to impress Louis, prove himself to Louis, than he is with Harry. He lets his guard down with Harry, but with Louis, he has this urge to just let Louis _be_ his guard. He's not sure how to deal with that feeling, so he mostly just doesn't deal with it at all.

_oh tell him i say hello back! what are you two up to? :)))_

George texts back and forth with Harry all the way to the X Factor studios. He takes photos with some fans, then goes in for makeup and hair -- they dye him a dark, glossy, burnt brown when he mentions wanting a change, and they blow out his hair and fringe into something mature. And helmet-like.

He knows that photos have leaked onto the internet when tweets start pouring in.

George's phone lights up with a text from Louis.

_Not sure about the fringe !!!_

George promptly goes to Jamie Stevens and begs for him to fix it.

The result is something closer to what his hair was like before, but obviously darker and more feathered at the edges. He's pleased with it, but hesitantly takes a picture of himself and sends it to Louis with a questioning _??_ in the message.  
It takes a while for Louis to respond this time, but when he does and it says, _georgeous_ , it buoys George for the rest of the day, all the way through filming bits and embarrassing bobs for Caroline and Olly and up to the start of the show.

After last week's disastrous Queen performance, Harry and Louis had tucked him under their arms and whisked him off to their flat to wait out the night. They'd taken his mobile away so he couldn't check Twitter, and gave him cuddles from both sides, keeping up a steady stream of conversation so that he couldn't even begin to think about it. He's had all week to stew now, though, and even though he knows it's the worst time for it, he finds his nerves creeping up on him the closer it gets to show time.

He knows they have a better show this week. The song is great; the staging is simple but impressive. And he'd given up a solo to Josh, which put the whole of the former Triple J into better spirits with their de facto leader more cheerful.

But still, George is nervous. The tension between Gary and Louis Walsh has him certain that Gary will hate all of the Groups no matter how well they perform, and he knows that the overhyping of, frankly, his own face and his romantic appeal with Ella might hurt Union J with the older voters.

And, of course, Ella is special. Everyone already knows she's going to win; as the nerves set in, George wonders why he's even bothering.

That, of course, by some supernatural sense of kindness, is when Harry's last text comes through.

_You're going to do great! We're watching :) .x_

At first, it only makes George even more nervous, but after a moment, he straightens his shoulders. Well, if they're watching, he'd better impress them, shouldn't he?

He has a shock backstage when his mum is there, but that helps him chase the nerves away. 

She gives him a bear hug. "Are you well, sweetie? Have you met nice people?"

"Yeah, loads of nice people, everyone here's nice," George laughs. It won't do for her to think he's not as well acclimated with his band as the show makes it out. "It's fantastic."

"I've heard a rumor," his mum whispers, "That you've met One Direction now. That's what Caroline Flack tells me. I've spoken to Caroline Flack! Incredible." She fixes George with a look. "Have you met One Direction? Were they nice, or do I have to go home and break poor Harriet's heart?"

George laughs. "No, they were lovely, Mum!" She will never ever know how lovely, if George has anything to say about it. "They gave us some really good advice. They're all very nice, don't worry, Harriet's heart can go on another day."

His mum laughs with a hand pressed to her own heart. "Well, good. I couldn't stand it, Georgie Porgie, if I thought you weren't happy here, doing this."

" _Mum_ ," George grumbles. "Like I don't have enough stupid nicknames around here, you want to add another one?"

"My little Georgie Porgie Pudding and Pie," she coos in response, her eyes sparkling mischievously as she kisses his cheek. She makes a face as she pulls away and wipes at her lips. "You're wearing more makeup than a French tart."  
"Mum!"

His outburst is enough to cover Josh's mutter of _imagine that_ as he passes by to take his microphone and headset from production and ready himself in the wings. Christopher's getting a lashing from the judges, and George can only pray that Union J will look unified and that Gary will have a little mercy.

"Look, Mum, I've got to go, I've got stuff," he says vaguely. There's always stuff and he's not sure what half of it is called. "But I'll talk to you more later, alright? Go watch the rest of the show."

She touches her thumb to his cheek and heads off to watch their performance.

George doesn't actually remember being onstage, later. He barely remembers the song, much less the judging, much less flinging himself bodily at Jaymi in joy. But he vividly can recall, and will for the rest of his life, hearing _you could sell out the O2_.

He rides on that high for what feels like years, while they're shepherded off the stage, while they're being herded off to do some post-show reaction bit that probably won't ever air, which is good because George is almost positive he didn't say anything coherent. He's buzzing, his hands curled into fists so tight it's pressing half-moon marks into his palms.

He can hear Ella onstage and he wants to hang around to give her a hug as soon as she comes through the wings, so after the cameras have finished with him, he scuttles back to wait in the shadows for her.

JJ is waiting there, too, quietly watching Ella sing with her hair piled high and her gorgeous, beaded gold dress that makes her look like a cross between Dusty Springfield and a Disney princess.

While the crowd hoots for her, because of course Ella is perfect, JJ tilts his head thoughtfully and looks at George from beneath his eyelashes. 

"You don't have to do it, you know."

"What?" George whispers. "I don't have to what?"

"Get off with everyone," JJ says. "People will like you anyway. And you don't... did Harry Styles promise you votes or something to make you go off with him?"

George's frown pulls a wrinkle between his brows. "What? Of course not. I don't... It's not some sort of weird gratitude thing."

"Okay," JJ says. "I just wanted to make sure, after what you did in Las Vegas. You didn't have to do that, either, you know. I would have liked you anyway."

"Would you have?" George shrugs a shoulder a little uncomfortably. He's not sure where this conversation is leading, but they've never really talked about his... weekend of debauchery, as it were. "Didn't work on Josh."

"Josh takes a while to warm up to people," JJ says like he thinks this will be a revelation. "I think he's afraid someone's going to pull the rug out from under him, and that someone could be you since you've come in and replaced him."

"I don't want to replace anyone," says George quietly. "Couldn't, could I? I'm just... extra. You can't replace something that wasn't ever there."

JJ frowns, and he's the sort of person who frowns with his whole face. "That's one thing you don't have like Harry Styles, isn't it. You should have some more confidence. I didn't have nearly this big a crisis about fitting in when they added me to the group."

"I don't imagine you were trying to fit into the group in front of millions of people, either," George replies dryly. "Look, it's fine, I'll be fine. It's just sometimes a bit much to handle, and you guys have all these jokes I don't get, and..." He smiles without amusement. "Sorry. The point is, I'll get over myself."

"If it helps, I don't understand the jokes either," JJ offers. "And then they're usually at my expense, aren't they?"

"Except when they're at mine." George leans his head onto JJ's shoulder. "Like I said, it'll be fine." He smiles. "I would've anyway, you know."

"Would've what?" JJ asks. "Gone with Harry Styles?"

"No. Well, yes. I was talking about you, though." George laughs. "I would've wanted you anyway."

JJ goes a bit pink. "Oh. Well. Thank you?"

George laughs again, and this time it's a real one, from his chest. "So polite. Manners are what I look for in my partners."

"D'you really have that many?" JJ asks. "Josh was -- complaining earlier that you and Ella were, and then that you said something about... I don't know, it's none of mine. It doesn't matter anyway, does it? Used protection and all."

"Always do," George confirms. "I'm not doing anything with Ella, though. I mean, Christ, she's sixteen, you know? She's just a mate, we were sort of - wrestling - Josh just walked in at the wrong moment."

"Well, I know that," JJ says. "I more meant, like to ask that you're being good to yourself, yeah? That's what I've been trying to get at. You're being good to yourself?"

George smiles at him. JJ really is a good person to have in a band with you. "Yeah, I'm being good to myself. Thanks," he adds, giving him a sort of sideways hug. "For like, caring."

"We all _care_." JJ hugs George back and leaves his arm around George's neck. "Even Josh. He just shows caring by being a dickhead. That's what I tell myself, anyway. And you know, we all care about Union J. And you made Union J."

"We made Union J," corrects George. "All of us. And we're gonna be amazing, right? We just have to keep doing what we did tonight."

JJ beams at that -- and before George knows it, the lazy hug has become a headlock that he's scuffling to get out of until production finally chivvies them away from the stage because they're going to cause a ruckus. 

"Oh, I've forgotten Ella!" George gasps when JJ lets him free, and he bumps fists with JJ once before running off to find Ella and sweep her off her feet in congratulations for smashing another show.

When he gets to the greenroom, though, and finds her, he skids to a stop when he sees Ella caught up in conversation with - with Louis. And not with the Louis that he's used to seeing backstage, because that one is still at the judging panel, but the Louis who makes something in George tighten up the moment he sees him.

George makes his way over, striding a bit more slowly than he had been. He knows he's caught when Ella's eyes light up and she makes an animated gesture over Louis's shoulder.

It's a ruder gesture than any of Ella's adoring public could probably imagine her making, and George rolls his eyes even as he snorts a laugh.

"What would Tulisa say?" he asks, shaking his head. His original goal had been to give Ella a hug, and Louis being there won't stop him from that. He wraps his arms around Ella's waist from behind and gives her a squeeze and a warm kiss on the cheek.

"Where do you think I learnt that?" Ella retorts.

George feigns shock. "But how are you supposed to be the UK's new sweetheart now?" he asks, giving her a bright smile when he can't hold the expression any longer. "You did brilliantly. Of course."

Ella shakes her head. "Your mentor said I looked too much like Adele. Who's pregnant at the moment, so. That was a real confidence-booster."

"Oh, Walsh hated Harry, too," Louis (Tomlinson) snorts, shaking his head. "I have to agree with Gary on his assessment of Louis' assessments."

"You look gorgeous," George agrees softly, bringing one of Ella's hands to his mouth and kissing the back of it. He looks at Louis underneath his eyelashes and smiles. "Hello, by the way. Wasn't expecting you."

"We were in Dublin up until a few hours ago," Louis explains. "But after last week we wanted to be home to see the show. And Harry's in a tiff because apparently the Late Late Show audience hates him."

George laughs, his nose wrinkling, and Ella squeezes his hands twice before letting go.

"Most people see the show on television, you know," he teases. "They don't suddenly pop backstage on X Factor."

"You're backstage at the X Factor," Louis points out, sniffing. "If they let you back here, it must not be that exclusive. I'm doing this dump a kindness by showing my beautiful face here." He winks. "Ella knows, yeah?"

"Don't listen to him," George says firmly, cutting off what he's certain would have been a swift denial from Ella. Certain. "It's all the fame like, it's gone to his head. He's mad, now. They're all mad. That reminds me." He narrows his eyes at Ella and snatches to catch her hands again so she can't run away yet. "You stole my Curious namesake and I want him back, you monkey-napper."

"Never!" Ella hisses, and twists her way free. "He loves me best! Even though you don't, because you have One Direction now and it's _gotta be them_!" she holds the high note as she flies off.

George looks at Louis, pained. "I think she's only taking the mickey of this outfit. Also, I think I'm melting. I have about five coats on." He swallows and looks at his boots, then back up at Louis. "Also, hi."

"Hello." Louis is giving him an exceedingly fond look. "Told you we'd be watching. How d'you feel about your performance?"

George tries not to smile as exuberantly as he wants, as he feels welling up in his chest, because yeah, he was told that maybe someday he could sell out the O2 -- but Louis already _has_. "Yeah, I think it was good. Was it good?"

Louis smiles back at him, one that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners, and George nearly starts bouncing on his toes. "You were brilliant and you know it." He holds out his arms a little and raises his eyebrows in question.

George bites his lip and steps into Louis' embrace; he tips his face down so Louis can kiss him, cold hands sneaking their way beneath the layers of coat and jumper and shirt and t-shirt that George has been wearing since long before he was under stage lights.

The kiss is soft and Louis' hands are soothing as they stroke their way across George's back, raising goosebumps on his overheated skin.

"You are warm," Louis says, sounding a little concerned. "As soon as you're finished on Xtra, we should get you out of these clothes."

George huffs out a shaky laugh. "You could try a bit harder than that, couldn't you? I think you should be a bit better at your come-ons by now."

Louis' brow furrows. "I'm Louis Tomlinson?" He shrugs, arms still around George's waist. "That's my best one, mate, take it or leave it."

"I think it's acceptable. Needs a bit of work." George has to bite his lip against the smile that wants to escape, fully aware that if he lets it, he'll just look goofy and infatuated. He _is_ goofy and infatuated, but there's no need for Louis to know that.

Louis shakes his head. "You are evil. That biting of the lip. Evil. You're buying votes every time you do it, you know."

"Have I bought your vote yet, then?" asks George. He lowers his eyes a little and then looks back at Louis. It's a hard trick when Louis is shorter than him, but worth a try, anyway.

"You don't have to buy my vote," Louis murmurs, and leans up to kiss him again.

"It's the fickle teenage girls of Britain you need to buy. Do you know, two weeks ago, before _you_ , they liked this other bloke. Harry something."

Louis smiles and lets his fingertips come to rest just beneath the waistband of George's trousers, barely touching the only pale skin George has left on his body, just over the start of the curve of his arse. "Mmm. I'm going to mingle so things look less -- you know. And then after you're done appeasing Caroline and Olly, I'm gonna take you back to ours. Unless you'd rather stay here? With Ella?"

"I get to see Ella every day." George grins at him. "I'd love to come back with you, yeah. I just have to - yeah. Do my things, the after-show. Things." He really wishes he could sound less flustered around Louis more often.

Louis only looks more pleased as George blusters around. "You're so _cute_." He gives George's arse a sharp pinch. "I could eat you up. Maybe I will later."

George makes a small noise in his throat at that, but coughs in an attempt to cover it up. "Er, yeah. Maybe you will." He glances over his shoulder and then back at Louis. "I should... go. I should go."

"Yes, yes, fascinating, honest, and not-at-all-staged game shows to compete in upstairs." Louis waves him off delicately. "Does Craft Services still do those Bakewell tarts? I might go steal them all."

"They do, yeah," George confirms. "But they're Gary's favorite."

"Well, then now I have to steal them all whether I plan to eat them or not." Louis stretches and George has to lick his lip at the sight of the thin stripe of Louis' tan skin that's bared by the raising of his jumper. "Run along, and I'll meet you at the back doors as soon as the program ends. We'll probably have to run for it."

"I like running," says George, because his brain likes to speak before he can tell it how not to sound like the stupidest person in the world. "Erm. Yeah, meet you there!" he says, giving Louis another quick hug before he dashes off.

He gets halfway up the hallway before he stops himself and mutters, _I like running?_ and hits his forehead once lightly against the wall before starting up again to go join the Xtra Factor for a round of the Boy Band Newlywed Game.

George is pretty sure he has the anticipation to thank for the stupid game going by so quickly. He hates those things, so he's grateful for more than one reason when he can slip his jacket on and gather his things to leave.

Ella comes up to him just as he'd debating whether bringing an overnight bag will make him seem like a total knob. She's clutching the frothy purple 'Ella' teddy bear and George has to smile. 

"Are you going with Louis?" she asks. "I saw you talking to JJ while I was singing... is everything alright? I didn't want to ask with him there. With Louis there, not JJ."

"Yeah, it's good," George says, and it's honest. "He just wanted to check in. Had a bit of a tense interview there this afternoon."

"I'm sorry about that," Ella frowns. "I feel like that's my fault for being on you."

"I like when you're on me," George says, and kisses her cheek. "And Josh is an idiot. Don't worry about it."

"I'm still going to worry about it," Ella informs him, this adorably determined scowl on her face that just makes George kiss her temple as well.

"I know you are." He smiles. "It's alright, though. Like, actually alright."

Ella smiles at George and leans in to kiss his cheek as he shoulders his bag, having decided that being able to wash makeup off his face properly trumps looking knobbish. 

"Do you want to bring Ella Bear to your sleepover?" She tosses her head back and laughs uproariously at the way George tries to work his face into something at once kind and apologetic instead of somewhat horrified. "Just kidding!"

"You're awful, can you imagine!" George laughs, hitting her shoulder. "How would I even work that into conversation? You're _awful_ ," he reiterates.

"You'd just have to explain that there's a tiny spycam inside and Ella Person is using Ella Bear to vicariously live out her greatest ambitions, hopes, and dreams."

"Oh, yes, that would go over very well, I think. Actually," he muses. "Actually I'm not sure whether or not they'd care. Probably. But also probably not."

Ella fists her hand into the collar of his t-shirt and pulls him down forcibly to look into her eyes. " _Find out_."

"Okay! Okay, I'll find out!" George swallows, properly frightened for a moment. "I'll bring it up. Somehow. Okay?"

Ella releases him and goes back to her sugary sweet self. "Have fun. Be safe. Make good choices." She shakes her head. "What am I talking about? You've already made all the best choices. Just have fun and be safe."

"I'll do that." George gives her one more hug goodbye before beginning to make his way through the labyrinth of halls. He's actually almost figured out the entire layout of the building, which is useful when you want to get from one side of it to the other in a hurry.

When he gets to the back doors, Louis wraps a hand around George's wrist and pushes him through and almost directly into a waiting black sedan with tinted windows. Louis dives in after him and they're off, heading down some alley in the opposite direction of the X Factor hubbub.

"Wow," George says, barely winded but still a little breathless from surprise. "Got a bit of practice at that, have you?"

"I've forgotten how to use doors normally," Louis confirms. He slides across the back seat. "You get used to it eventually. Just becomes routine."

"I can't imagine that." George slowly shakes his head. "I can't imagine us ever getting that popular. I mean, we've had like, groups of girls come up to us in public and ask for us to sign things, but we've never had to... Well, I guess that's why you're the popstar." He offers Louis a smile.

"I think you've a stronger following now in week two than we did," Louis says. "But Harry says I'm always underestimating myself, so maybe I'm wrong. Doesn't matter."

"Yeah, you're right, it doesn't matter." George shuffles across the seat a bit, feeling at once foolish and obvious. "Did you really like our performance tonight? I'm still buzzing from it." He holds up his arm to show Louis the way his hand is trembling.  
"I did, yeah," Louis says, and he curls George's hand around his own to kiss the root of George's thumb and then, with a tease in his eyes, sucks lightly on the tip of George's middle finger.

"Oh." It's like all the air's been sucked out of George's lungs as he stares at the shape of Louis's lips. He'd somehow forgotten that this is something he's allowed to do, look and feel like this. "I, er. I'm glad. That you liked it."

Louis smiles and ghosts a kiss over the tip of George's finger. "You did so well," he murmurs, and George feels hot as he remembers the last time Louis said this to him in that voice, holding him down hard enough to bruise while Harry fucked into him. "You looked so good, too."

"You think?" George slides himself the rest of the way across the seat. Pretenses are stupid, and they both know he'd rather be touching Louis anyway. "It was really hot, all those clothes onstage."

Louis hums sympathetically. "I did promise to get you out of those, didn't I? And you deserve it, love, for doing so well. I'll bet Harry's about out of his skin at home waiting to reward you."

All this talk of rewards is making George feel even more flushed, like he's cooking from the inside out. His breath is uneven now, he can hear it in the relative silence of the car. "Is he?" he asks, meeting Louis's eyes. "I'd like that."

"Well, I should hope so," Louis crosses his eyes and laughs, and it deflates the tension a little but makes George feel _better_ and laugh, too. "Bit weird if you didn't like rewards and being spoilt and lots of nice Harry-orgasms. I'd think you were mental."

"You're one to talk about thinking people are mental." George nudges his elbow into Louis's side. "I've heard the stories about you, you know."

"Look, it's not my fault if people don't knock on doors," Louis says, and catches George's elbow to pull him half-into Louis' lap. "They get an eyeful of something they don't want, that's their problem, mate, isn't it?" 

Louis' eyes glance up to the tinted divider between their backseat and the driver, and then he bites his lip.

Louis rests his hand deliberately over the inseam of George's trousers and starts to rub firm, knowing circles with the heel of his palm.

"What--?" George clears his throat to rid his voice of the squeakiness that had been in it. "What are you doing?" He can't keep himself from pressing forward into Louis's hand, though, in little hitches of his hips.

Louis presses a button on the arm of his car door and the divider _opens_ slightly. Just an inch. Just enough that their driver might hear them.

George shuts his mouth at once, giving Louis a look that he hopes can properly express his confusion. Louis's hand doesn't stop moving on him, though, and his expression just looks mischievous. George swallows a groan, his head dropping forward.

Louis touches his lips to the side of George's neck. "Could I give you a lovebite or will that not go over well?"

"People -- will think... it was Ella?" George is too confused to follow what he's even saying. His eyes are locked to that little gap in the divider and he doesn't know whether that embarrasses him or excites him, that Louis Tomlinson wouldn't mind someone hearing him get George off. If that's what Louis' doing, anyway, but to be honest he's wanted to be with Louis and Harry again so badly for so many days that he might just come in his pants anyway, even if that isn't Louis' intention.

He doesn't seem to have to worry about that, though, because Louis' slim fingers are unbuttoning George's fly.

George's eyes move there instead. The sight of Louis's hand slipping inside his trousers is one of the more erotic things he's seen, and he bites his lip hard to keep from whimpering at it. "Ohh, please?" he asks, one hand clutching Louis's shoulder. He's not sure what he's asking for, but Louis always seems to know. George thinks that might be important, something to think about, but probably not while he's getting a handjob.

Louis nips at George's neck anyway, rumors be damned because for once, they won't be traced to him. 

"Shh," he murmurs, gently extricating George from the confines of his trousers and it feels overheated and filthy when George looks down and there's his naked cock, hard and red and shiny with Louis' hand around it, just sticking up from beneath the hem of that conservative, smart jumper. 

Louis drags his hand up and down once and a pearl of precome beads up at the head of George's dick. George exhales, short and sharp, and his tongue slips out to lick at where he's bitten an indent into his lip.

"That's good, just like that," mutters Louis. When George casts his gaze up, Louis isn't watching his hand, he's watching George's face. It makes George feel even hotter, and he likes over his lip more deliberately. 

Louis's hand is soft, and smaller than George's own. That's one of George's favorite things about being with someone else, the difference between someone else's hand on you and your own hand. Louis is moving more slowly than George would, and he doesn't have calluses on his fingertips like George does.

"Your hands are really nice," George whispers, and blushes. 

"Yeah?" Louis runs the pad of his thumb around the ridge of the head and George feels like he might swallow his own tongue. "D'you want to find out if my mouth is nicer?"

"I can't see how it wouldn't be." George is trying so hard to keep his voice hushed. Louis doesn't seem as concerned about it. He's not shouting, by any means, but he's definitely not whispering, either. "It's a really nice looking mouth."

"That's a compliment coming from you," Louis smirks -- and leans down.

George really should have seen that coming, but he was too distracted by looking at Louis's mouth to actually think about what that meant, finding out if it's nicer than his hands. He finds out quickly that yes, Louis's mouth is nicer than his hands. Much nicer.

"Oh, sh--fuck," George gasps, and his head drops back against the headrest of the seat. He can't care anymore whether their driver will hear. Hell, he _wants_ them to hear, because this is fucking glorious.

Louis is muffling laughter around him, and it sends shivers up George's spine. He wants to see what Louis looks like right now with his mouth on George's cock, sucking at him, but he can't bring himself to look. He just knows he'll come on the spot if he does, and he wants this to last as long as possible.

So of course Louis' free hand snakes its way up George's chest to tangle in his hair and tug his head down to look at Louis tucked into George's lap, George's cock balls-deep in Louis' mouth. His fingers tighten in George's hair and George whimpers, staring, as Louis pulls off slowly to show off the slick string of shine that connects his lip to the head of George's dick for just a moment before it breaks.

"Oh, God," George gasps. He can't look away, not with the grip Louis has on his hair, and he doesn't want to look away anymore, either. It's just on the edge of too much, and the smirk on Louis's face says that he knows that perfectly well.

"Don't close your eyes," Louis instructs. He kisses away another blob of precome so slowly that George can feel every soft, sliding flutter of Louis' tongue, and George can't hold back a broken whimper.

He wants to stroke his fingertips through the mussed strands of hair over Louis's forehead, and touch his lips and touch his skin and touch everything about Louis, because Louis is beautiful like this (and in everything he does) but this is something different. This feels like George is thinking through honey and it's lovely but he's still not used to it.

Louis nuzzles down and kisses over the shaft. "You're okay. I've got you."

Of course, George muses, of course Louis knows exactly what to say. George's mouth is hanging open in a way that can't be attractive, and he's sweating something awful in all these clothes, but he feels calm and safe here, feelings that are hard to come by recently. Feelings he only really feels when he's with Louis and Harry.

"Harry?" he gasps, and he's not sure why he said it, really, other than that it seems to be taking a very long time to get across London and he wishes Harry were here to see this and to kiss him and maybe he could try going down on Harry's monster of a cock while Louis is blowing him, or maybe they could try taking Harry together, and he just -- needed to say his name. He hopes Louis doesn't mind.

He's smiling, and he looks like he sort of maybe understands, which is a feat since George doesn't actually understand himself. But then he's leaning away a little and George doesn't like that decision at all. 

Louis raps twice on the divider, disregarding George's sudden look of alarm. Does he want George to die? Is this all an elaborate plot to eliminate the boy band competition?

George thinks, faintly, that he's a bit stupid when all his blood's in his dick and not his brain.

Nothing happens, though, other than the sedan turning onto a quiet street somewhere far up North in the boroughs. 

Louis nuzzles George's arm. "Nearly there," he promises. "Harry will be here soon. We've got you."

"You have, you know," whispers George. He feels a bit embarrassed immediately afterwards, but it's not like Louis couldn't have figured that out by just looking at him or even looking at the way George looks at him.

Louis smiles beneath his eyelashes. He shifts up so he can kiss George's mouth and he's bitter with slick while his hand works George over slow and smooth, enough to keep him right on the edge and not enough to push him over.

George is actually quite proud of himself for keeping up with the kiss while Louis's hand is on him. He suspects that Louis might be keeping the kiss so soft because he knows George wouldn't be able to focus on it otherwise, and he strokes the tip of his tongue over Louis's cupid's bow to thank him.

The car slows to a stop and Louis pulls away. "Leave it out."

George blanches a little and knows his cheeks are going red. "But to -- we have to walk outside?"

"It's not like you're going down the street," Louis reasons. "Just up the drive."

Halfheartedly, George opens his mouth to protest again, but he already knows he's going to do whatever Louis says. There's not really a point in arguing. He swallows and bobs his head in a nod, but tugs his jumper down a little.

"No, no, no," Louis chides, and arranges George's hems so his cock bobs out in front of him huge and obscene and prominent. "Just like that."

George ducks his head. "Okay," he murmurs. He hopes the driver is either already gone or doesn't watch X Factor. He lets out a breath and lifts his head. "Are we ready, then?"

Louis rubs his thumb over the slit and it comes away shiny. He sucks his thumb clean delicately and nods.

He opens the car door and touches the small of George's back. "Let's go. Come on, you know the way; you were here last weekend."

George takes another deep breath before he slips out of the car, grabbing his bag before he can forget it. He makes sure to keep it at his side so that Louis can't claim he's using it to cover up, and steps aside so that Louis can get out as well.

Louis leans up and kisses the nape of George's neck. It makes him shiver. "Good boy."

George repeats that in his head as he takes a step forward. He's doing well. He's good. Another step forward, and another breath.

The driver's door of the car opens.

George freezes, his heart pounding and his blood rushing in his ears. He's torn between his automatic reaction to cover up and remembering how Louis told him not to, so he just sort of stands there uselessly and waits for his humiliation.

"Oh, he's so pretty," Harry sighs, unfolding from the driver's seat and shutting the door again, leaning back against the car. "Look at him -- he's still hard even though he's nervous. Such a good boy, isn't he, Lou?"

For a moment, George just stares at him. For a really long moment, actually. "It's you," he finally says, his shoulders relaxing. "It's you."

His brow creases. "Has it always been you? The whole time?"

"The whole time," Harry confirms. "I was a bit afraid my car'd get recognized, but we got lucky." His mouth quirks as he gives George a lewd once over. "Very lucky. You look a bit cold."

"Uhhm?" George wavers intelligently. He's absurdly pleased that Harry is here, even though the whole point of coming to the house was to find Harry.

Harry's smile softens and he pushes off his car to step up to George. "You look so good when you're blushing," he says, touching the tips of his fingers to George's cheek. He frowns a little, then. "You're burning up. You aren't ill, are you? That'd put a serious dent in our plans for you."

"Not ill, no," George assures him. "I've been wearing like four coats for the last twelve hours. And getting sucked off while wearing four coats. And blushing, I guess. Too."

"Oh, that's good, then." Harry perks up. "Two out of three, anyway. I think we should get you out of all your coats. Let's get inside." He looks past George's head. "Do you need anything from the car before I lock it?"

George shakes his head. He still feels like he can't take his eyes off Harry, and his head still feels a little thick and swimmy, and he knows that /he/ doesn't usually feel like this, but maybe it's normal around Harry. And Louis, who slips his arm around George's waist and tucks his fingers under the bottom of the jumper so he can stroke at George's hip.

Harry cups one of George's cheeks before he locks the car and then tucks the key into his pocket. George isn't actually sure how he can fit _anything_ into those pockets, as he's fairly sure they're so tight he can see the outline of Harry's cock, but perhaps they're bigger on the inside. Maybe Harry has TARDIS pockets.

And George really doesn't need to be thinking about Doctor Who at a time like this. He swallows and nods, taking another step forward with the warmth of Louis's arm around him. It's so much easier to do when he knows nobody's going to pop out and laugh at his exposure.

"That's so hot," Harry murmurs encouragingly, and then Harry's hand is around George's cock where it's sticking up in front of him so hard it's nearly flat against his belly. "Look at you."

George shivers, but keeps moving, though there's a stutter in his step now as he struggles to walk while Harry's touching him. There's something about Harry, and Louis as well, that makes George want to be as impressive as possible, so he straightens his spine and begins to move more easily.

"I couldn't take my eyes off you on stage," Harry continues. "D'you know what happens when they put you in all those layers of clothes? I just get lost imagining taking them off, basically."

"I was thinking about you watching," murmurs George. "I think it made me better, wanting to be good for you."

Harry kisses George's cheek while Louis unlocks their front door, and as soon as they're through, Harry shoulders George up against the wood and starts pawing off the coats and sweaters with a rough edge of desperation.

"Want you to fuck me tonight," Harry explains between harsh kisses to George's slack mouth. "Been thinking about it all day."

"Oh, yes, please," George replies, shaking his hand furiously to get the sleeve off. He already feels so much better and he sighs in relief, the sweat cooling at the base of his spine and the dips of his collarbones.

"Yeah?" Harry murmurs. "Have you thought about it before? Did you touch yourself this week imagining fucking us?"

George licks his lips and nods. "Yeah, in the shower," he says quietly. "And once while Josh was asleep, 'cause I couldn't wait."

"I did, too," Harry whispers like it's a secret, even though Louis can definitely hear them from where he's on his knees, undoing two belts and kissing his way right across from George's hips to Harry's. "I woke up in the middle of the night and I was just desperate... so I fingered myself while Louis was asleep right there in the bed. And then," Harry drags his lips across George's cheekbone to press his mouth to the shell of George's ear. "He woke up, and he screwed me into the mattress so hard I got rugburn on my knees."

George's eyelids flutter as he tries to control his breathing. Harry is fantastic at putting an image into his head, at making him picture things so vividly he can't help but want them so much it hurts. He turns his head just a bit so he can press a kiss to Harry's neck. 

"I bet he's good at that," George says against the skin below Harry's ear. "I felt it for days after you fucked me, did you know? Every time I moved, I thought of you."

Harry hums and runs his huge hands over George's chest and stomach, trying to touch all of him at once. "You gonna return the favor?"

"Yeah." George licks his lips and nuzzles his nose behind Harry's ear, into his mass of hair. "Yeah, gonna make it good for you. So you'll remember me." He sets a hand low on Harry's stomach to curl in his shirt.

Harry's eyes flutter closed and he lets out a little huff of air. George glances down and Louis is still knelt between Harry and George, but he's got his mouth around Harry's dick now and is slurping at him like he's Louis' favorite delicacy and George's knees feel a bit weak at how _pretty_ that looks.

He thinks that if he couldn't be a part of this, he'd be content just to look, because to watch them together is to watch something special happening. They obviously know each other so well, what each other likes and dislikes, and sometimes George has seen them smile while they kiss.

They're beautiful together, and he's still in disbelief that they're willing to let him in to see this. He wonders who else has before dismissing the thought. It's him right now and he shouldn't be wasting valuable time thinking about irrelevant things.

George strokes his fingers through the back of Louis's hair, letting the strands drift soft and silky through his fingers. There's nothing about him that's not gorgeous, George thinks with faint disbelief.

"Yeah," Harry murmurs like he's agreeing with George's thoughts, and he turns his face to rest in the curve of George's neck to drizzle kisses up and down his skin again. George touches Harry's chin with slightly trembling fingers and Harry lifts his face so George can kiss his lips, licking into Harry's mouth because he can't help wanting more.

Harry is, probably, the best kisser George has ever kissed. He gives and takes in equal measure, and his lips are soft but not _too_ soft and his teeth are just that bit crooked at the back and it's all so nice that it takes George's mind a second to catch up and realize that those shivershocks of pleasure running up his spine are because Louis' moved back onto his cock now, and the slippery-wet sound is Louis' hand on Harry right beside him.

George's fingers curl into Louis's hair but he makes a concerted effort not to pull. He doesn't want Louis to stop for any reason, just needs something to hold on to, because this is like what he was worried about in the car, his ability to concentrate on both a mouth on his and on his cock. It's easier when he can feel both of them in other places.

Harry's tapping his fingertips across George's waist crosswise in a strange little syncopated rhythm that's impossible to predict. It's a Harry rhythm, George thinks, and no one else could ever know it.

Louis does something with his tongue that makes George's mouth fall open and his head tip back a little, and he makes a mental note to get Louis to teach him whatever he just did. His legs nearly gave out just then. That might be useful for the next time they do this (if there is a next time, George still isn't quite clear on whether or not this is going to continue or for how long) or just for the next time he blows somebody in general.

"Hey." Harry noses at George's cheek. "Come back. You went somewhere far away just now. Help me get my shirt off already and we can move into the bedroom. Or wherever you like."

"I like when you have your shirt off," George whispers, sliding his hands up underneath Harry's jumper and over his skin, feeling the musculature in his stomach. "Your body is insane."

Harry opens his mouth, then closes it again. "Was gonna say 'you drive my body insane' but I didn't want Louis to laugh at me again. He'd end up biting you."

Louis is laughing a little bit anyway, but all it does is send a shiver up George's spine and make him clutch at Harry more tightly for a moment. He pushes Harry's shirt up more and then over his head when Harry lifts his arms to assist him.

And then Harry is all _skin_ against him, and it's glorious. The look and feel of Harry, especially while Louis is pulling away from George's cock with a wet sound and Harry's mouth falls open again in a slash of pink as Louis swallows _him_ down, makes something buzz in George's brain again and he feels like putty. Like the only thing that matters right now is touching as much of Harry as he possibly can.

He slides his hands back down over Harry's collarbones and nipples and stomach, then lifts his mouth to press a kiss to Harry's neck and slide his hands around to touch the smooth skin of Harry's back. Harry feels so overwhelmingly large like this, so much skin and height and cock that George wants to touch all of at once.

Harry sucks in a quick breath through his teeth and touches Louis' shoulder. Louis pulls back and Harry reaches down to give his own dick a squeeze at the base to take some of the hot edge off. 

George keeps staring, knows he's staring, as his hands come to cup Harry's hipbones. He runs his thumb over a hidden black tattoo under the sharp point of Harry's bone, right in the shadow where it creases into his thigh. Harry _mmm_ s again and tips his face forward to bite at George's clavicle.

He wrinkles his nose when he pulls back. "Yuck. You taste all makeuppy."

"Sorry," says George, even though he really didn't have anything to do with that. "Came straight here after the show, didn't have a shower or anything." He wrinkles his nose back at Harry.

Louis kisses George's thigh and stands up, shucking his shirt as he goes. "Did you see ours when you were here last weekend? I don't think you did, as you were all distraught and stuff."

"Yeah," George replies, his eyes feasting on the sight of Louis, who is a little more compact than Harry and has an altogether different body, though it's no less fascinating to George. "Yeah, I didn't really notice much of anything, then."

Louis clucks sympathetically. His lips are filthy red and swollen. "Come on, then. We'll wash your back for you."

"And your front," adds Harry, with a teasing tug to one of George's belt loops. George's knees buckle for a moment, and then he straightens and pulls Louis into a kiss, keeping it gentle but needing to feel the raw-redness of them against his own.

Louis gives him a smile after the kiss. "Get your fucking stupid trousers off already. Your cock's been out for ages, you pervert."

"You--!" George starts indignantly, as if it's his fault Louis has a fetish for making people walk around with their dicks out. It seems more productive, though, to simply do what he says and drop his trousers the rest of the way, stepping out of them and then raising his eyebrows. "Better?" he asks.

"Very much," Louis and Harry say together in one voice.

"It's really creepy when you do that," George informs them in a mumble, stepping closer and looking from one to the other. "Where's this shower you mentioned?" he says. Now that he's been thinking about it, it feels so gross, all the makeup caked on him along with dried sweat from the heat and being under all the lights. He feels disgusting just standing there.

Louis apparently doesn't agree, because he steps up and kisses over the wing of George's shoulder blade, his hands trailing down over George's back to cup his arse and squeeze lightly, just barely separating the cheeks to make George gasp. "Just follow Harry."

Harry's already moving, so George doesn't hesitate, following him through the hallway and up a flight of stairs. He wonders if someday he'll see this house normally, and not through a haze of arousal or dejection. He hopes so.

Louis stays behind him the whole way and never stops touching George even when it would be practical to do so, like when they're near the top of the stairs and Louis wraps an arm around George's waist to rub his stomach and George almost falls down every step.

"Steady on," Louis whispers. "Need to keep you in one piece first if we're to break you apart tonight."

George swallows and nods, letting himself rest his weight on Louis for a moment before being guided to the singular room bleeding light out into the dark corridor.

It's very white, this room, with shining tile and silver fixtures that glint in the bright light. Harry's already stood at the shower, which is enormous, bigger than any shower George has ever seen. Harry is bent over, presumably to test the temperature of it so they don't scald themselves, but it doubles as a grand opportunity to stare at the curve of Harry's arse, so George takes advantage of that.

"He's got a cute little bum, doesn't he?" Louis murmurs. He runs his tongue over the join of George's neck. "You'll have to be careful with him -- you're bigger than I am, and he doesn't take more than fingers very often."

George swallows. "But he said...?"

"Yeah, he did wake me up the other night 'cause he wants you so badly," Louis agrees, and his voice is velvety and almost teasing. "He kept talking about you during, too. How good you are. And you're so good; tonight you were _so_ good on the show, you deserve everything."

George lets out a little sigh, more and more pleased every time either Harry or Louis tells him how good he was. "I'll be careful," he says softly, a warm feeling blooming in his chest when he thinks about how much they'd both have to trust him to do this with them then, how much Harry has to want him. The thought makes him waver on his feet again, but Louis is right there to steady him.

"That's right," Louis praises. "You're so good for us. We're glad we found you, you know."

George flushes down to his neck and he knows his face is pink when Harry finally straightens up and looks back to them. He's got an arm in the shower to test the temperature and there's a single bead of water that's escaped and is running down the length of Harry's back, tracing all of his muscles. 

"Are you coming in?" Harry asks cheekily, smiling. His face is dimpled and his hair is in his eyes and he looks so beautiful and young and alive and god, George _wants_ him.

He can have him, too, this inhumanly beautiful person. If he just takes a few steps forward, he can touch Harry, and kiss him and Harry will let him. Right now, George wants that more than anything in the world.

George takes the three steps he needs to and lets his feet sink into the plush of the mat in front of the shower. He's still not used to Harry being taller than him (or loads of people being taller than him, really) but it's nice somehow to have to lean up to kiss someone.

"Yeah," George answers belatedly. "I'm ready to finally be clean," he states, rubbing a knuckle underneath his own eye and frowning when it comes away smeared with beige stage makeup.

"Did they put eyeliner on you?" Harry asks, looking at George closely. 

"They said with the new hair color, I needed it?" George defends. "Well, Kye said it."

"Your eyes are already massive." Now Louis is peering at George as well. "It's just made you look even more like a baby deer than you already did. I guess maybe now the mothers will vote for you."

"I don't know whether to be offended," George says flatly, which makes Louis laugh as he steps into the spray of the enormous shower. There's a bench along one wall, and the whole glass box is already filling with hot steam. 

Harry breaks into a huge grin. "The mum vote is pretty invaluable, I have to say. It gets you perks."

"Probably not the sort of perks I'm interested in," murmurs George, stepping into the shower to run his hands over Harry's now wet chest. "I like these perks, though. These perks are good."

Harry smiles at him with half-lidded, sleepy eyes as George runs his hands all over Harry's chest, just drinking in how gorgeous he is. He runs his thumb over one of Harry's nipples and Harry bites his lip, his own hand coming up to grip at George's hip.

George bends to lick at the other nipple when --

"Wait." He stands again. "How did I not notice before that you _really do have_ four nipples?"

"Two are shy," Harry says, and Louis smirks.

George touches the larger of the extras inquisitively. "Do they, you know. Work?"

Harry's eyes flutter shut as George keeps circling the callused pad of his fingertip over the little nub of nipple. "You -- oh, you tell me."

"Hmm." George flicks his fingernail over it and watches as Harry's nipple tightens a little despite the heat of the water coming down on them. "Wow, that's nice," he breathes, looking up to watch Harry's face while he rubs with the pad of his thumb.

Louis' hands come around from behind Harry and together, George and Louis get thumbs on all four of Harry's nipples at once, and Harry whimpers a high, desperate noise, his hips working into the air as he looks for friction.

"So responsive," George whispers, leaning in a little. He nudges his thigh between Harry's and presses a kiss to the wet skin of his collarbone. "I want to touch you so much. Just to see how you work."

"I want you to touch," Harry murmurs back, and he laces his fingers with George's to pull them down, slowly, dragging over the ridges of Harry's abs and to where Harry's dick is huge, not quite all the way hard but enough that George flushes at the sight of it, remembers how it felt inside him and wants that again, even though he wants to fuck Harry, too, just to see what that's like. "I want you to get everything you want, George."

"This is pretty close, mate." George's eyes move from Harry to Louis behind him, wondering again when this happened, how this is really his life, showering with Harry and Louis from One Direction. "There's not much more I could want than this, is there?"

"I want more," Louis murmurs. "I want to get you both in bed and get my tongue on you. I want to come, because it's been fucking ridiculous ages and it's starting to hurt a bit. I want to keep you both naked and watch you put on a show for me. I want a lot more than just... a shower."

"Well--" George's voice breaks a little and he clears his throat. He really should be used to how very good the both of them are at talking. "Well, yeah, I mean, that'd be. Nice, very nice, that'd be nice. I want that. That's what I want."

Harry tips his mouth down to George's ear so his lips brush. "I want you to be ours and no one else's. I want to know, every time we see you, that the last time you came was because of us."

George lets out a whoosh of breath and has to mouth Harry's shoulder. "It was," he whispers. "The last time, I mean. Other than my own hand. You were the last, I haven't had anyone else."

"Really?" Harry asks. "Caroline's told me that you and Ella have been going at it. And I'm a very jealous person, I'll have you know."

"Caroline needs to get her eyes checked, then." George tips his head back a little to meet Harry's eyes. "Ella's just a friend." He pauses. "She did say to ask if she could watch, though."

There's a moment of silence and George quickly adds, "I already told her no. And I left the teddy she's put a spy camera in back at the hotel."

"Well, that's good, isn't it?" says Louis in a voice that could be strained from holding back laughter but could also be strained from holding back horror. George doesn't quite know. "We wouldn't want teddy spies."

"How -- erm," Harry asks, and he shifts a little. George swallows and his heart speeds up as he wonders, in a sudden and crushing and ridiculous panic, what he's done so wrong. "How many people have you told? About -- all of this, any of it?"

And George knows, he _knows_ , that Ella is the only one he actually told. Josh knows because he saw and JJ and Jaymi know because Josh bunked with them last time, but -- he hasn't done anything wrong, really, he only told Ella. Even so, the idea of losing them, losing this it's... more than it should be, for what had started out as a pickup in a bar.

"Just Ella," he says in a voice that wavers in places. He coughs. "Ella's the only one I've told, I just... wanted someone to talk about it with. I'm sorry?" he guesses at what will make them not pack him up and send him off again.

He coughs again and knows that he must look like he's mental, the way he's obviously in a state. His hands are shaking like he's Chris, for fuck's sake, and he feels like -- he can't quite breathe, all of a sudden, and he doesn't know _why_ but he just... feels like he's disappointed them and it's horrible. That slow, dazey feeling is back and he wonders whether he’s overheating in the steam of the shower, maybe, because he normally isn’t such a basketcase. Normally he’s fairly carefree, really. But right now he feels a little like the world might be ending.

"Oh, darling, shh, shh," he hears Harry say, and then he's being gathered up in strong arms. "We didn't mean to -- worry you, alright? Calm down, okay?" Harry's voice is soft and apologetic in George's ear.

"I didn't tell people," George insists weakly, pushing his face into Harry's chest. He can feel Louis' hands on him, too, and there's a clatter as something falls off one of the shelves when Louis skirts around to press up against George's back and nuzzle into the nape of his neck. "You said -- not to and so I didn't. I did what you said, I promise."

"We know you did, you're a good boy, George, very good," Louis says against his throat. "You're our good boy, George, we're not angry. You didn't do anything wrong, we still want you."

George squeaks and nuzzles deeper into Harry's chest, and he lets their hands and the soft murmur of their voices calm him down again, because that -- that was ridiculous.

"I don't know why I reacted like that," George croaks, embarrassed. "I promise I'm not a crazy person. Really."

"No, you're not," Harry assures. "Just got a bit out of hand, there; we should have known better. It's not your fault." He rubs George's back, his knuckles brushing against Louis's stomach. "Are you feeling better now?"

George nods. "Also I think my makeup's mostly washed off."

"It hasn't," Harry assures him grimly. "It really cakes in and fucks things up. D'you want to borrow my face stuff?"

"I guess." George still feels a little wrong-footed. "I'm -- not gonna try to sell you out, you know. I tried out for the show because I love singing and want to do it as a job instead of having to sell coffees or design bad logos, not like, to be famous at any cost. Or whatever."

"Hey." Harry cups the sides of George's face and looks at him so seriously George's stomach swoops with nerves. Louis's arms are still around his waist, though, and he focuses on that as Harry speaks. "We know that. We're not worried about that. We just like to keep track of who knows."

"If we didn't trust you," Louis adds, "We'd never have gone with you at all. It would have ended with me stealing your drink at the bar."

George still feels shaky, but his heart rate is calming down and he feels less like he's going to burst into entirely embarrassing tears. "I didn't mean to upset you," he says quietly. "Swear."

Harry kisses the side of George's head. "We're not upset. _I swear_. I'm not upset! Lou, are you upset?"

"Nope," Louis chirps. "I mean, my boner's gone down but really that's probably just a good sign I'm not actually a sociopath or something, isn't it, with how sad poor George got there."

George winces at the thought of how obvious his little breakdown was. "Sorry," he says again, weakly. "I don't know why that happened."

"It's okay," Harry assures him again. "We do, and we're not gonna make you feel like that again, okay? Are you alright?"

"Yeah," George says, and he still feels a little dazey but maybe he just needs -- "Some water, though?"

"Of course!" Louis hops out of the shower and curses a storm when he bangs his toe on the edge before limping off, still naked, to the kitchen to get a glass.

Harry's face is entirely put-out when George lifts his head and looks at him. "He's dripping all over my floors," Harry says dryly. "What a wanker."

"Aren't they his floors, too?" George asks, and lets Harry tip him back into the spray of the shower to rinse out the product from his hair. Harry murmurs _look here_ and George does, pleased and quiet as Harry gently washes the makeup's remnants away from George's face.

"Not technically," Harry says lightly. "This house is in my name, and he's got one a few blocks away. Real estate is a good investment, so we've all bought houses just in case 'Take Me Home' tanks and we're has-beens at eighteen and twenty. I hear there's this boy band on the X Factor who're really trying to take our place? Union something?"

George blushes and sticks his face right into the shower spray to rinse it. "Sorry," he burbles into the water.

Harry just laughs. "Just don't be nice to our faces and then slag us off in the papers, alright?" He seems to take George's scandalized expression for enough of an answer, and begins laughing again.

"Are we being funny, now?" Louis asks, returning with a glass of water that looks ridiculously refreshing. "Did you want to wait until we're done or lean your head out?" he says to George, gesturing with the glass. "If you drip on the floor, Harry'll get upset, though. That never stops me, but you're nicer."

"I'm done, I think," George says, and looks to Harry for confirmation. "Otherwise I'll get all pruney."

"Yeah, you're all scrubbed up," Harry says, and smiles all full of dimples. "Now we can get you all dirtied up again."

George hums at the thought. That sounds fantastic to him, as the last of the trembles make their way out of his fingers and he relaxes against Harry. "Looking forward to it," he murmurs, smiling against Harry's neck.

"Out you get," Louis coaxes, offering George a hand to take and helping him step out onto the mat. He sets the glass of water down and grabs a towel from the cupboard, wrapping George up in it tight and warm.

Louis gives George a sweet kiss before he hands him the glass of water. "Drink up. Are you spending the night or do we need to send you home in a cab at 4AM so Gary Barlow doesn't eat you for being out all night?"

George drinks half the water in the glass before he answers. "I think it'll be fine as long as I get back pretty early in the morning. And I'll have to text the boys at some point, so they know not to expect me back."

"Are things better with them at all?" Louis asks. He rubs George down with the towel, massaging his arms and legs and down over George's chest.

"Are things better with them at all?" Louis asks. He rubs George down with the towel, massaging his arms and legs and down over George's chest.

"Yeah, actually." George swallows another mouthful of water. "Well, things with Josh are still a bit tense. But JJ's been lovely. He told me to make sure to be careful, I think he's a bit protective about this whole thing."

"Aw, good," Louis says. "I like JJ, then. Which one is he? Not-Josh Quiff, or Not-Josh Piercings?"

"Quiff," George laughs.

"I like him. He's the best one who's not you, I've decided." Louis nods firmly. "You're the clear winner on all counts, but he can be a far second, I suppose."

"I like him. He's the best one who's not you, I've decided." Louis nods firmly. "You're the clear winner on all counts, but he can be a far second, I suppose."

"Shove off," George laughs, and actually does shove at Louis' chest. "You sound like Tumblr."

"I'll take that as the insult it's clearly meant as." Louis holds a hand to his chest in fake pain. "You've cut me to the quick. Hurry, kiss it better."

George grins and kisses Louis' chest, catching the tips of Louis' fingers under his lips. He keeps his mouth on Louis' skin, kissing, as he slowly drops to his knees.

"Oh, alright," Louis says. He sounds delighted. The mat is still beneath George's knees, so it's not as painful as it would usually be with all the tile. He can see Harry out of the corner of his eye, his posture relaxed with the shower still dripping in the background.

He's mostly concerned with all of Louis' skin, but he can hear Harry murmur _Lou, should he still? After that?_

"I think he's alright," Louis says back, and his fingers curl into the soft, feathered hair at the sides of George's ears, and George hums happily. He's _so_ okay, he thinks, this is exactly what he wanted.

George can feel Harry step out of the shower and begin bustling around, probably getting dry himself. It's not important when Louis is getting harder even as George watches, his cock thickening up. George licks his lips and breathes out hot against the head of it.

"George," Harry asks conversationally, and George looks up because the only thing that could get his attention right now is one of them saying his name, he thinks -- and even though it's Harry, he's a little annoyed, because he really wants to suck Louis' cock. "Do you _want_ to blow Louis right now?"

"Yes," George says immediately. He nods enthusiastically. "A lot."

"Okay," Harry says. "I was just checking. Carry on."

"Thank you," replies George in the politest tone he can muster. He ducks back down to purse his lips in a kiss to the tip of Louis's cock that smears pre-come across his lips, and he licks it off before parting his lips to take Louis into his mouth.

Louis pets George's hair thoughtfully. "Do you have a solo in the group song tomorrow?"

George slurps his way back off and says, "Nope," before taking in the head again, sucking happily.

"Good," Louis says. "Then you can go further." 

He puts his hand on the back of George's skull and presses down just enough to ease George forward, pushing more and more of his dick into George's mouth.

George moans around him, the taste hot and heady and something George has missed since the last time he did it. Louis is good at getting sucked off, which George appreciates. He knows what George can and can't do and pushes him just as far as he can go, until George's eyes are watering and his throat is burning but he never ever wants to stop.

He likes that Louis is controlling this without full-on fucking his face, too. A certain one of his bandmates had been a facefucker in Vegas, and if it hadn't been for the fact that it was after they'd already sung their audition, they'd've been sunk because George could barely talk the next day.

"So good at this, babe," Louis praises, his fingers ruffling George's hair before returning to their previous grip, just tight enough for George to feel it without it hurting too much. "So good for me, aren't you? You'd do whatever I wanted you to."

George moans so Louis can feel it and tries to replicate whatever that thing was that Louis did with his tongue earlier, because really, _jesus_. If he could make Louis feel like that...

Louis hisses, his grip becoming a vice for just a moment and then relaxing again. "Shit," he murmurs appreciatively. "You've been paying attention."

George's cheeks hurt from trying so hard not to smile (and bite Louis in the process).

"Hey," mutters Harry from behind George, a hand on his shoulder. His hair's still dripping; George can feel the droplets from it making his shoulders wet again. "Bedroom? Your knees'll start to go soon, trust me."

George is torn -- he's having quite a good time, but yeah, his knees are already starting to feel it.

"It's okay," Louis says, and scritches behind George's ear. "Let's go to bed."

It feels really nice, and George grins up at Louis before carefully heaving himself back onto his feet. He can feel the burn in his calves now that he's not kneeling, and he cringes, stretching out one and then the other.

"I told you," Harry says ruefully. He gives George's back a little rub. "Do you remember the way to the bedroom?"

George shakes his head, blushing a little. "I don't really remember much of anything from being here last time. I was just so upset."

"That's okay," Harry says, and winds his arm around George's waist to lead him down the corridor.

Harry- and Louis' bedroom is surprisingly small, or maybe just looks that way because their bed is so huge. It's a bed, really, that fits three people, and George has fleetingly wondered whether they hadn't had another him that they bought the bed to fit, once upon a time.

"Why don't you get on the bed for us?" Louis says into his ear, kissing the side of George's neck. "I want to see you."

George bites back a comment about how they can both see him already and lowers himself onto the bed, moving into the middle and spreading out a bit. He thinks he should probably feel more self-conscious than he does, but he just feels anticipation and eagerness clawing their way through his veins.

"Yeah," Harry murmurs appreciatively. "That's just right. Look so good like that. Sometime when you have a whole day off, you're gonna come here and stay naked all day, spread out and lubed up so we can have you whenever we want. Would you like that?"

"Yes." George doesn't even need to think about it. That sounds like everything he's ever wanted. "I'd love that. Can I, sometime?"

"When we all have a day off, yeah," Harry promises. The bed dips a bit as Harry settles himself next to George and runs his hand over George's belly. "Lou?" Harry asks, "Did you want him to finish sucking you off, or do you want to take care of yourself watching us?"

"Spoilt for choice, me." Louis doesn't look too upset about this, though, his eyes moving from Harry to George and back again. "You two are awfully pretty together, aren't you? Gonna put on a show for me?"

"I already did a whole performance tonight," George teases, but he's buzzing with excitement anyway.

"And it was amazing, but this one's going to be better than that." Louis grins and slips onto the bed, watching them. "I want to see. I don't get this angle of it very often."

Harry smiles at George. Harry lifts George's hand to his mouth and sucks on two of the fingers, swirling his tongue around them. George can't help pressing down lightly on Harry's tongue to hear him gag for a moment, just because it's Harry Styles and everything -- _everything_ \-- looks and sounds and feels so good.

"Got a good mouth, hasn't he?" Louis's voice is low and knowing, and the bed moves for a second while Louis shifts closer. "Got a good everything. You really are annoyingly hot, Harry."

Harry lets George's fingers slip out of his mouth. He smirks. "I know."

"Cocky," Louis murmurs, reaching over to lightly smack Harry's bum. "Nobody likes a show-off, love."

"You wouldn't be asking for a show if you didn't want us to _show off_ ," Harry retorts, and gives George a private little grin like they're sharing a joke. Harry leans down over George and nuzzles their noses together, making George chase his lips before he'll award him a kiss.

From the sound of it, Louis isn't going to bother to respond to that. He just settles a hand on George's chest and mutters, "Gorgeous," as he rubs lightly.

George doesn't think he'll ever get used to kissing Harry, which is good because he doesn't like stopping. Harry is all lips and tongue with the slightest hints of teeth to entice George into responding as though he didn't already want to kiss Harry until neither of them can breathe anymore.

"Touch his nipples, George," Louis murmurs. "Not too hard, he's too sensitive there. Don't pinch. Just nicely."

George makes a soft noise and moves his hand to rest on Harry's chest, his fingers rubbing gently at one of his proper nipples. He smiles when Harry sighs against him and rubs a little bit harder, in small circles.

Harry exhales a little, almost surprised _ooh_ and rests his forehead against George's for a second as he bites his lip.

"Harry," Louis chastises, "Don't just lie there. Touch George's cock. Don't stroke it. Just touch it."

"Bossy," Harry grumbles in return, but he slides his hand down George's stomach and drags his fingertips along George's length. He listens to Louis and doesn't stroke, though, driving George mad with light touches and how slow he's going.

"That's good," Louis praises. "Really good. Harry, look at how still George is staying without even being told. He's perfect, aren't you, Georgie? So, so good."

"Perfect," Harry agrees. George feels about to burst from how adored he feels, his chest heaving a little with the emotion. Harry kisses his head softly, nuzzling into George's hairline. "You're our best boy, aren't you, George?"

"Mmm-hmm," George agrees. Harry draws his thumb in a dragging, slight circle around the ridged rim of George's cock and it feels so good that George _needs_ more, but he concentrates on keeping his hips still and not fucking into Harry's hand. Instead he ducks his head and licks a kiss over one of Harry's proper nipples, feeling Harry's skin go over gooseflesh right away.

"Oh, he loves that," says Louis, leaning over to kiss George's cheek in appreciation. "Good work, top stuff. Do it again."

George draws his tongue over the hard, pointed tip of Harry's nipple. He makes sure Louis can see, tapping tiny kitten-licks.

Harry winds his knee around George's thigh and flips them so that he can lie beneath George, his thighs opened up for George to fit between.

"Oh!" George exclaims in surprise before he settles, rocking his hips forward to feel the drag of his cock against Harry's. It makes him shudder, and his head dips forward as he fists the sheets next to Harry's ribs.

"Don't come, George," Louis instructs sharply. "You've a long way to go yet."

"I won't," George insists, swallowing hard and letting out a breath. "I'll be good."

"Good boy." George looks over to where Louis is lounging on the bed: he's kneeling a little, tall over where Harry and George lie, and his cock is so hard it looks angry.

George feels bad that he'd abandoned his blowjob. "Do you want me to finish you off?"

"I can take care of myself, love, you let Harry take care of you." Louis is stroking his own thigh, like he's teasing himself when neither of the others is touching him. "Do you want to open him up? Or do you want to watch him do it to himself?"

They honestly both sound amazing, and George doesn't really want to choose. He looks down at Harry's face: pupils huge in his green eyes and cheeks flushed pink. George opens his mouth to answer and no sound comes out, so he closes it again and just shakes his head.

"How about this?" Louis rubs George's back softly. "How about, since you put on such a good show earlier, you let Harry put on a nice show for you?"

"Okay," George agrees, and he lets Louis move him so that he's sitting almost in Louis' lap. Louis wraps his arm around George's waist and curls his fingers around George's hard dick. He strokes once, all the way to the base and back up so he can lave his soft palm over the wet head. 

"Don't come," he reminds George softly, kissing the side of George's face once, twice. "Just watch Harry."

"Okay," George whispers, leaning back against Louis even more. He tenses the muscles in his thighs and then relaxes them to try and get a little more control over himself, but he's already trembling again at Louis's touch.

Harry smiles at George before reaching under the pillow and removing a packet of lube. Louis keeps stroking George's dick, just off-rhythm enough that George can't get used to it, can't predict what he's going to feel, doesn't know when Louis will keep his hand soft or when he'll twist sharply at the base and make George's cock kick out a warning of bitter, slick precome.

"Just focus on Harry," Louis murmurs. "Watch his fingers."

George really doesn't know how Louis can think he'd be watching anyone else. Harry's fingers are long and slender and beautiful when he's not getting ready to put them inside himself, and George is enraptured. He watches as Harry slicks lube over those fingers and then spreads his legs wide, reaching down and underneath his thigh to press carefully at his hole.

"That's going to be you," Louis whispers, telling George secrets. "Watch his face now -- look how his eyes light up like that when he gets in to the knuckle, he's so excited about you fucking him. He wants you so badly, George. You're so special."

Special. The word resonates in George's head like some sort of password to happiness he didn't know about. He doesn't know how to express it in words, though, only in the way his toes curl and his happy little sounds as Louis keeps touching him.

Harry looks right into George's eyes as he starts flirting with pushing a second finger in alongside the first. George can tell even from here, even with Louis working him over and that cloud settling over his ears, that Harry's too tight for it still. He thinks it really must be rare for Harry to do it from this side, and he doesn't know what he could have possibly done to deserve it.

"Don't want to hurt him," he sighs, quietly enough that he's almost sure Harry won't hear him, though he wouldn't mind if he did. "Don't let me hurt him. I want to make it good."

"You won't let yourself hurt him," Louis assures him. "Because you want to do it again and again, don't you?"

"Yeah, yeah I want to," George breathes. He settles after that, sure that Louis won't let him do anything less than what Harry wants, and wanting, desperately wanting all of this to happen again, and again, and over and over and over.

"Good," Louis praises. "You're gonna get through to next week, and we'll celebrate that. And then next week, and the next, and you're brilliant and you're special and you're going to keep being brilliant, right?"

George manages to give him a little assenting squeak before he has to pinch his own thigh hard between his nails to keep from coming.

"That's good, no coming yet," says Louis. "Are you watching Harry? He's gonna be so tight for you, babe. Even after his fingers."

Harry has two fingers inside now, rocking in shallow movements to get himself used to it before he twists them and slides them in a bit more. His eyes are closed and his mouth is open slightly, tongue poking out to touch his lip.

"Oh," George breathes, because he wants to be there, he wants to be sliding up into Harry, he wants it so badly he can't even think anymore. He just lets Louis' voice propel him because clearly his brain can't.

Louis laughs in his ear and kisses George's neck. "You want that so much, don't you? How much d'you want to be inside him? Making him take your cock?"

George nods, at a loss for words, and pinches himself again as his lips press together so tightly they're white, caught between his teeth.

"Oh, you need it, don't you? How much longer, Hazza? He's dying for it." Louis nudges his mouth over George's jaw, barely raising his voice.

Harry opens his eyes. He licks his lip and gives George a long, slow once over. "If he can be slow, it's alright."

"Can you do that, darling?" Louis whispers to George. "Can you go slow for him?"

George feels like he's about to burst if he doesn't fuck _somebody_ , but he knows that he couldn't hurt Harry, not ever. "I can do that," he says, nodding. He'll go as slow as Harry needs him to.

After all, he did it for me."

"Come here, then." Harry's voice is rough as he slides his fingers out of himself, but leaves his legs spread open wide. It's all too easy for George to extricate himself from Louis's arms and kneel between Harry's knees.

"George," Louis says softly, but it cuts like a knife through the fuzz in George's ears and he can hear Louis like a bell. "Put two fingers in Harry and tell me if you agree with him."

George nods, leaning back to push two fingertips against Harry's hole. He knows almost immediately what the answer is. "No," he says softly. There's no way Harry could take him now, not without it hurting like mad.

" _Harry_ ," Louis says sharply, but he doesn't elaborate. "George, slick up your fingers and finish getting him ready, please. He doesn't like more than two fingers, though, even when he's loose."

George nods, fumbling for the discarded tube of lube without looking away from Harry. He looks flushed and sheepish, and it's a good look on him, as most are. It only takes a squeeze for him to slick his fingers and he eases one carefully into Harry, marveling at how tight he still is even after he's been preparing himself.

"I -- thought it would make up for hurting you last week," Harry admits. It's too quiet for Louis to hear. It's almost too quiet for George to hear. "But that was stupid."

"Yeah, it was." George can't bring himself to be too sharp with him, though. "Don't do that, okay? Just, don't. I don't want to hurt you, ever."

He has to swallow twice because he is _not_ going to be a nutter and get that panicky feeling again, he _is not_. "Really, really, I don't want to hurt you. I can't, Harry, I can't, I can't -- "

"Okay," Harry promises, and runs his fingers through George's hair. "I know. I'm glad Louis knows how to predict me."

"That's 'cause you're very predictable," Louis says from the side of the bed. "Clockwork Harry Styles."

"Nobody asked you," says Harry good-naturedly. He shifts his hips on the bed a little. "You can -- another, if you want."

George looks to Louis.

"Go ahead." Louis nods.

With the permission, George tucks a second finger in along with the first, making sure to be very slow as he nudges them inside.

He watches Harry's face intently. His eyes are big and shiny and his eyelashes are a touch wet, sticking together like butterfly wings, and his cheeks and forehead are flushed a pretty all-over pink in circles high on his cheekbones. He can see Harry's tongue move where Harry's lips are parted, and George murmurs nonsense softly, staring at Harry's mouth.

"Go on and kiss him," Louis permits. "Don't stop moving your fingers. Get them to the second knuckle before you stop kissing."

George automatically does as Louis says, pressing his lips to Harry's and then opening his mouth to suck little kisses from Harry's bottom lip before properly kissing him, fitting their mouths together. He doesn't stop moving his fingers beyond a bit of a stutter when Harry first responds, brushing his tongue over George's.

Harry responds beautifully to George, to everything. He works his hips with George's hand, riding down onto George's fingers; he curls one leg up around George's waist -- the far leg, so Louis can still see everything -- and his toes knead at George's thigh. His cock is heavy and full, lying trapped between them against Harry's belly. George wants to touch him everywhere.

"I can't believe I get to touch you at all," he murmurs, his words spoken wet against Harry's mouth. "Can't believe I'm allowed to see you like this."

"Aren't you gonna get over that?" Harry chuckles. "You absolutely deserve it, and you're gorgeous, and I want you to fuck me now."

Honestly, George can't see how he'll ever get used to it, but Harry feels, if not loose, at least ready enough that George won't tear him apart. He takes his fingers out and positions himself, giving Louis a look and hesitating.

Louis looks momentarily unsure. "Harry?"

Harry shrugs, and they have a conversation with their eyes that George can't follow.

"Condom, George," Louis says, and his voice is gentle. "If you get tested -- maybe next time, if you promise you're only ours."

George's cheeks burn. "I'm sorry," he says, leaning back. "I forgot. That was stupid."

"Hey." Harry reaches up and cups George's cheek. "It's okay. Next time, yeah, if you're clean."

George gives an aborted nod and Harry scoots up the pillows so he can see into the bedside drawer. George's view gives him an eyeful of condoms in two different sizes, a stash of lube, and --

There are all kinds of toys in that drawer. Even in the few seconds he has to look, George can spot four that make him flush with want and he hopes, he hopes there is a next time still and they might play with them on him.

Right now, though, this is enough. Harry spread open underneath him and handing him a condom, Louis watching with this air of satisfaction about him. It's all he could ever want already. George tears open the foil packet with his teeth and leans back to put it on.

"Mmm," Louis hums. "Pretty as a picture. If that picture is porn."

Harry laughs, wild and happy, and it makes George laugh, too, glad to be here with them.

He slides two fingers back into Harry once more, just to check, and then pushes Harry's knees back a little so that he can carefully guide himself in.

Harry is still tight; George can tell that even aside from the six-pack abs, Harry's stomach is tense, so he works in a fraction at a time, opening Harry up slowly around his cock while Louis murmurs a litany of praise from the sidelines.

"You feel so good," George gasps, finally bottoming out. He doesn't dare move, and not only because it would hurt Harry, though that's his main concern. He's aware that he's on the edge, and takes a moment to compose himself lest he come right then and there.

"Tell me what he feels like," Louis asks, and his voice is rough. When George looks over, Louis gives him a syrup-slow smile and drags his hand over his own cock.

"Tight," says George immediately. He can hardly think of anything else. "So, so tight, and warm, and smooth." He looks down at the way Harry's lids are fluttering, his mouth open on a moan. "Beautiful."

"Harry," Louis says, "Does George feel good? Is this what you wanted all week?"

Harry looks a little like he's not sure what's going on, and it makes George feel more powerful than he can ever remember feeling before. Harry always seems so certain of himself, but now he's floundering for words, his face all flushed and delicate looking.

"S'good," he finally manages to slur. "So good, Lou, he's so thick, feels so _full_ when he's inside."

"Yeah, he's almost as big as you," Louis agrees. "How do you want him? Fast or slow?"

Harry gives George a speculative look that he feels all the way to his toes. "Slow, at first, I think," he says after a moment, his reluctance almost palpable. "You're right, he is quite big."

George's chest warms a little with pride and he'd feel petty if it weren't so sexy to know that Harry's calling his cock big because that's how it feels inside him.

"George," Louis says, "Can you get his leg over your arm? There's my good boys."

George groans at the shift in angle when he manages to get Harry's leg up, his cock sliding out a little before he guides it back to its position in a slow, filthy drag. "Like that?" he asks, his voice strained as he looks to Louis for approval.

Louis nods, slowly, and the sound of his hand gets that bit louder. "Isn't that nice, Harry? George getting to all the good places now?"

"I can feel him everywhere," Harry grinds out, his back arching a little. "Just like that, _please_ fuck me like that?"

George nods and leans down so he can kiss Harry, wet and sloppy and open-mouthed, their tongues slipping out and tangling where Louis can see them. Louis takes a sharp breath through his teeth.

When George pulls back from the kiss, he drops his knee onto the mattress for better leverage to bend into Harry, getting deeper. He reaches for Harry's cock where it lies between them, but Louis grates out _not yet_.

Instead, George presses the hand into the sheets, twisting up fabric between his fingers. He kisses the corner of Harry's mouth apologetically, but doesn't dare move his hand from where it is now.

"Good, George," Louis confirms. "Don't touch him until Harry asks for it."

George thinks that if he were Harry, he'd be begging for it already, but he remembers how proud Harry had looked last weekend when Louis showed off by coming without having his cock touched at all, and he wonders whether maybe Harry is trying to learnt that.

Whether Louis is trying to teach him. 

The toys in their bedside table float back into his mind and George groans, grinding into Harry as he imagines Louis using any one of them on Harry, of Harry spread open like he's spread open right now for George, of Louis sliding a vibrator into Harry while he’s trapped hard in a cock ring, wanting to come but wanting even more to please Louis. George can understand that feeling of needing to be good, the best for Louis that he can possibly be.

Harry is a great student, evident in the way that he's obviously dying for it but still won't say a word. It just spurs George on, makes him want to be the one to make Harry break and beg.

Harry huffs an _oh_ and tightens his fingers on George's back. George can feel his fingernails, the way they're digging in just enough to leave pink marks until morning. Harry's head is twisted to look at Louis, curls splayed over the pillow and long neck bared for George's mouth, and George noses at Harry's cheek to hide the way he's watching Harry and Louis watch each other so hungrily.

They're beautiful together even without touching, even without speaking to each other. Just the way they want so clearly is distracting, and George has to kiss and lick at the line of Harry's throat to keep from letting it take his attention. 

Harry's skin asks to be marked, but George doesn't know if he's allowed, so he just presses his lips and his tongue, all the softest parts of his mouth there and wishes he could use his teeth to make them see that he wants them to be his.

"Bite my arm," Harry grinds out, and it takes George a second to realize that he's talking to him. 

George lifts his head and Harry is staring at him now with his eyes huge. He's flung his arm out wide so George can see the kaleidoscope of tattoos and the soft expanse of all that pale, smooth skin, and George flicks his eyes back to Harry's just a moment for confirmation. 

Harry nods and hitches his leg up higher around George's elbow. 

George swallows and leans down to nuzzle at the barest stripe of Harry's skin, just at his underarm. Harry is covered with signs of Louis -- bruises from his teeth and the shapes of his thumbs, and, George suspects, a few of the tattoos -- and it makes George feel warm all over that Harry wants to wear him, too.

Harry's skin here is softer than the skin of his neck and for a moment, George is reluctant to mar it at all. Then he looks to where Harry is still watching him all wide eyes and flushed cheeks, and it doesn't take any more convincing for him to want to give him what he's asking for so prettily.

George sets the edge of his teeth to Harry's skin and gives him a little lick before sucking hard. Harry gasps and his own hands grasp onto George's arse to change the speed, pull him rougher and deeper into Harry, and George pulls at Harry's skin with the sharp of his teeth in answer. 

When George pulls away, there's a pretty gold bruise on Harry's skin. And a Louis in his face, leaning over to see the mark.

Louis kisses George's temple. "That's perfect." His voice sounds strained and low, rough, and then while George watches, Louis comes, jerking himself through it so hard that George thinks it must hurt.

George isn't sure what it is that makes Louis look so good when he comes, but he can't look away from him. Underneath him, Harry is gasping and panting and making every sort of noise anybody could ever want to hear, but George actually can't look away from where Louis is spilling over his own knuckles.

"Wow," George says softly, under his breath like a secret. Louis's eyelashes are lowered over his eyes and the tops of his cheekbones flushed and when he looks up at George, he smiles a little bit, like he knows what George is thinking.

Louis holds up his messy hand and paints George's lower lip. "Want a taste?"

George nods eagerly and Louis pushes two fingers into George's mouth for him to suck on while he fucks Harry and Harry whines, desperate, his fingers twitching on George's arse because he _needs_ to come and he _needs_ to be touched to do it but he doesn't want to disappoint Louis, he wants to impress George just as much. And George can't wrap his head around how this is his life -- and how he hasn't come yet, because it feels like he's been kept on edge for hours.

Louis's fingers taste familiar in his mouth, and the thought of why that is makes George have to squeeze his eyes shut to keep from succumbing then and there. He wants to lick and suck until he can't taste anything but Louis's skin and his own spit, until there's nothing left for him, and then he wants to keep sucking until Louis tells him to stop.

"George." Louis' mouth is right on his ear. "Give Harry a hand now. Gentle -- just touch."

George can't bring himself to speak, but he nods as well as he can. He balances carefully on one hand, and uses the other to touch his fingertips to Harry's stomach and then to his cock, so hard and leaking against his abs. He doesn't stroke like he wants to, like Harry wants him to, simply touching, like Louis said to.

" _Yesyes_ ," Harry breathes, bucking under George and messing up their rhythm so George slips out of him on a stroke back and when he gets lined up again the angle is just a little wrong and catches, pushes hard and slams against Harry and makes him cry out.

"Sorry!" George gasps, shaking his head absently.

"No, it's -- keep going," Harry stutters. "Just -- keep, yeah."

"Sure?" asks George, but his hips are already moving again in rhythm, his eyes trying to take in everything about Harry. He's worried he'll miss something in the heat of the moment, the way Harry's tongue wets his lips or the way the muscles in his arms are straining.

"Yeah, I -- Louis, can he, _please_?"

"Do you think you deserve it?" Louis's voice is low and amused, and his fingers are dancing across Harry's chest. "Hmm? I don't know, Harry, do you deserve to have him touch you?"

"Of course he does," George blurts. "I'm not -- he's Harry, and I'm. Just George."

The way Louis looks at him then is something -- new, but it's also something that feels familiar to George, like it's the way Louis's always looking at him but it's never been quite this clear before.

"Harry, I think you should tell George how much you want him to touch you," he says, keeping his eyes on George's. "Tell him how much you want him."

" _Please_ , George?" Harry breathes immediately, and when George looks down at Harry's face, he's biting his lip and staring at George like he's something amazing. "Your hands are so, and your face is, and I like when -- you -- Louis, I can't _think_ enough right now, _please just --_ fuck."

George isn't sure how to do anything other than give Harry what he wants, what he's saying he wants from George. He wraps his hand around Harry's cock and strokes once, in a long pull from the base to the head and then back down.

Harry's head falls back against the pillow and his neck is bared again, jumping as he swallows. Louis leans over Harry and kisses at the bulb of his Adam's apple. Harry's back is arched under George and the gold bruise beneath his arm flashes as he flings his arm out to the side and slaps at the bed like it's keeping him away from the orgasm he wants.

"I want to see," George whispers, sure that all he needs to go over the edge is to see Harry spill over himself and really come undone. The thought is enough to make him shiver. "I want to see you come, Harry, please?"

Louis lifts his mouth from Harry's neck long enough to whisper, "Give him what he wants, Hazza."

Harry nods and George watches as something tightens behind Harry's eyes and he can tell Harry is focusing hard, chasing what he wants, actively working to please George and give him what he's looking for. It's beautiful, and George is mesmerized even as Louis brushes his fingers through George's hair to keep it out of his face.

Then his hand is wet and Harry's mouth is wet and pink. His eyes light up, pleased that he's made George and Louis happy, and George wants that. He wants to be able to do that, whatever it was, he wants to be able to do exactly what Louis asks him to do when he's asked to do it, he wants to be able to make his body do the things that would make Harry and Louis so proud of him.

He wonders wildly if they might teach him to do that someday, if this could last long enough for there to _be_ a someday, even. He hopes there will be. He hopes they hope it, too.

Harry's muscles are fluttering and spasming around George and he nearly chokes, on want and need and everything all at once. Harry is smiling through his gasps, and George thinks he's never seen anything quite as remarkable as that.

Harry seems to melt, boneless, _laughing_. Louis smiles at him like he's a revelation and sets to fixing Harry's hair now, smoothing it back from his damp face.

George grips onto Harry's hips and fucks into him for another half-minute before he pushes deep to come. It feels so good after this long that it almost hurts and he whimpers, the tingling hot shock of it blossoms out all along George's spine and into his arms and legs and fingers and toes.

He has a feeling that he might leave little finger-bruises on Harry's hips to match up with the ones that were already there from Louis, and the thought sends another shock down his spine, makes him want to grip even more tightly so that they'll stay longer and he can feel like he made an impression on them, so every part of Harry down to his skin will remember George.

Instead, he sort of collapses onto Harry with an _ooph_ and tucks his face into Harry's shoulder, panting.

Four hands smooth over his back.

"I do hope we didn't kill him," murmurs Louis, his voice close to George's ear. "I rather like him, don't you, Harry?"

Harry hums and presses a kiss to George's neck, high up behind his ear, and it makes George shiver. 

"I do," Harry whispers. "I like his long fingers and his nice wrists and his soft tummy and funny little teeth and I like how badly he wants to make us happy. He's so good, isn't he, Louis? He's the best one."

"I don't have funny teeth," says George, because if he thinks he'll explode from how nice all the other things Harry just said were. He feels all warm and tingly and his head is fuzzy and he can't stop smiling, not even a little.

Louis noses at George's cheek. "Yes, you do."

"Okay," George agrees, even though he doesn't he does, really. He looks down at Harry still catching his breath beneath him. "It was okay? I didn't hurt you or -- it was okay?"

"It was fantastic," Harry insists, his fingers drawing patterns over George's lower back. "You're fantastic. You're perfect." He wriggles his hips a little and George _oh_ s softly, kissing Harry's neck before he leans back so that he can pull out.

He ties off the condom and drops it in one of the wastebaskets at the side of the bed, and then strong arms are pulling him back against a warm chest, elegant hands drawing absent circles over his belly. George automatically relaxes into those arms, leaning his head back against the slope of a shoulder. "Nice," he informs the owner, nuzzling back against them.

He's suddenly very sleepy, the hours of nervousness and the endorphins from performing compounding his general relaxed contentment into something like exhaustion. He yawns, shuddering, and gets a kiss the side of his head again.

"You're very cute," Louis says to him, low and affectionate in his ear. George feels like none of his limbs are really working properly, but that's fine because he trusts Harry and Louis to take care of him.

Louis eases George off of the bed so Harry can shuffle on dry pillowcases and sheets to sleep in. George can't stop yawning, and he knows he's sagging heavily against Louis' arms, but Louis keeps up a gentle, running murmur in his ear about how well he did on the show and how glad he is that Harry could get fucked and like it so much, can't George see how Harry's thighs are still shaking because he got fucked so well?

It's true, too, not just dirty talk: George can see that Harry's gait is a little wobbly and he's still a bit winded, and George feels proud that he could do that, especially when Harry is so _Harry_ and sometimes seems so much bigger with more presence than George could ever think of having.

But now Harry is lying on the fresh, clean bed with his arms open for George to crawl into. And he does. And Harry wraps him up in his adonis arms and clucks quiet praise and promises in George's ear that he's _wonderful_ and it was _just what I wanted, George, thank you_.

Louis lies down and presses up close to George's back so that he's smothered on all sides by HarrynLouis. He loves it here.

"Go to sleep, now, George," Louis instructs, trailing his fingers down over George's side.

George wants to tell Louis that he's not even that tired at all, really, and he wants to stay awake and talk to them or even just listen to them talk to each other -- but he's asleep too fast to even open his mouth.

It's dark in the room when George wakes up. He can't remember anyone getting out of bed to turn the lights off, but either Harry or Louis must have at some point. The clock on the bedside table glows 3:41, and George wonders sleepily why he's awake.

He'll need to be delivered back to the X Factor contestants in just five hours. Whyever he's awake, he's glad -- he wants to spend as much time with Harry and Louis as he can _conscious_ , thank you.

He's still sandwiched between them, all full of warmth and comfortable and every muscle in his body aches a bit. He should go back to sleep, probably, but his eyes are getting used to the dark now and he'd rather take the opportunity to look at Harry and Louis without hassle.

Louis, in sleep, looks younger. The smile and laugh lines around his eyes have smoothed out and there's no smirk on his lips. His hair falls over his forehead in a soft wave, and he alone of the boys in the bed has a covering of brown stubble across his cheeks and chin. 

George reaches out and touches it with the tips of his fingers. It feels like stubble, of course -- scratchy under George's fingers. George hasn't really paid attention to it before, but now he wonders what that stubble would feel like against his stomach or his bare thighs. Brilliant, he imagines. Better than brilliant.

Louis stirs, his lips pursing and his forehead gathering into a furrow. George quickly pulls his fingers away.

An arm tightens around George's waist, and he isn't sure if it's Louis's or Harry's, but he can see when Louis's eyelids flutter and the movement of his throat when he swallows. 

"D'you often touch people while they're sleeping?" Louis asks, his voice still rough and drowsy. George wishes he could hear it like that every day and then shoves that thought into the back of his brain.

"Sorry," George whispers. "You don't have to wake up."

"You're awake," Louis points out, as though that's reason enough. "Why're you awake, darling? You need sleep to be all fresh faced and perky on the show tomorrow."

"I don't know," George admits. "I just woke up and I'm buzzing."

Louis kisses his shoulder, and it's warm and dry and sleepy. "Do you need to be tired out again?"

"No, no," George assures, even though the thought alone has sent alert signals to all his nerves. "Don't worry about me, you should get back to sleep."

Louis considers him thoughtfully, then smiles a little and sits up on his elbow. 

"I think I promised you something I haven't followed through," he murmurs, and runs his hand down over George's back all the way to caress his arse meaningfully. "Come on, love, lie down. Let's take care of you so you can sleep."

George wants to tell Louis he doesn't have to, but Louis knows that, obviously, and still wants to. The thought is too much to sort out in his brain just yet, so instead he nods, swallows, and does as Louis says.

Harry is still sound asleep, his mouth slighly open. He sleeps with his eyes hidden in the crease of his elbow, like he's entirely too used to being woken up from inconvenient naps in strange places, and it makes George a little sad.

He rolls over onto his belly, his cock already starting to fatten up against the mattress.

He can hear Louis hum softly, one of his hands trailing fingers over the curve of George's arse. "One thing you've not got in common with Harry, then," Louis murmurs. "He's barely got one of these at all."

George chokes out a laugh and then chokes on his tongue as he feels Louis spreading him open, his hips automatically lifting off of the mattress.

"Just relax, love," Louis chides. He kisses one of the dimples at the base of George's spine and George wants to wriggle either towards or away from Louis' mouth and he isn't sure which.

Experience with sex, George has in spades. Experience with this, not so much.

He holds himself as still as he can, as he feels the warmth of Louis's breath against him, and he shudders when Louis kisses him lower still, and then a teasing bite to his arsecheek. George muffles a yelp.

Louis' hands are soothing and confident where he's holding George's hips. His thumbs trace over the place where George's hipbones jut out, because he's skinny now and doesn't have the muscle to fill himself out like Louis or Harry do.

Louis's tongue is wet and warm, as tongues tend to be, when he touches it to George. George is torn between jerking away and pressing into it, so he doesn't actually move anywhere at all. "Relax," Louis whispers against him before licking his lips. George can feel the movement of his tongue and shivers again.

George's breath hitches when Louis's mouth finally touches him properly, his tongue drawing up George's hole in a long lick that ends with a flick of his tongue. It feels insanely good -- George supposes that might have something to do with nerve endings or something, but he's concentrating on not shoving back against Louis's face, so the science of it all is rather lost on him.

He twists his fingers into the sheet and presses his face into the pillow. He knows he's moaning, and Harry's asleep right next to them in the bed, and somehow that makes George feel even hotter in the pit of his belly, the thought that if Harry wakes up, the first thing he'll see when he opens his eyes is George with his arse in the air, Louis licking him out.

George can't really focus on anything that Louis's doing beyond the general knowledge that there's licking and sucking and kissing, and Louis's mouth is a fucking glorious invention, five stars to whoever came up with that, and whoever came up with this as a concept. He's not sure if he's actually being as loud as he thinks he is, but either way, Louis isn't telling him to shut up, so he doesn't.

He turns his face on the pillow because he can't get enough _air_ \-- doesn't think there's enough oxygen in the world to fill his lungs when Louis is doing this because it's literally taking his breath away -- and he whimpers when Harry is staring back at him, the reflection of light through the curtains shining against Harry's eyes.

"'S'good, that, isn't it?" Harry whispers.

It's like Harry expects George to be able to speak when he's having his brain slowly licked out of him. George looks at him desperately and stammers for a moment before slamming his mouth shut and letting out another groan.

"D'you want to know a secret?" Harry continues, and he shuffles a little closer beneath the sheets. "Louis is the only person who's ever done that to me. He loves it... you can't see, but he's wanking right now, you've got him so worked up."

George can picture it so clearly in his head, the way one of Louis's hands is still on his hip but the other is on himself, how Louis's probably red all the way down his chest, and he can see in his mind how Louis would do this to Harry, make him feel how George is feeling right now. He flails out a hand and Harry grasps onto it tightly like he knows George needs the support.

"I can see why." Harry squeezes George's hand and his eyes glitter at him in the dark. "You're so gorgeous right now, you don't even know. I wish I had a photo of you right now, just... falling apart."

George knows why they can't, and how he shouldn't want that, but he does. He wants them to be able to look at him like this whenever they want, to be able to just pull out a phone or a camera or whatever and take a long look at him just like this.

His mouth falls open on another moan as Louis works the tip of his tongue inside of him. It feels so much different than fingers or cock but it's still amazing, and George has to close his eyes.

Harry's lips touch softly to the corner of George's eye. "Lovely."

Harry keeps kissing his way down George's face, over his cheekbone to the side of George's mouth. He doesn't try to kiss George full-on, because there's no way George could focus on kissing him right now, but he keeps all of his attention on George and makes sure he knows it, too, and rewards him with small, familiar touches even while Louis turns the world upside-down.

George can't stop the rock of his hips anymore, not when Louis is slowly fucking his tongue inside of him, and Louis has to tighten the grip he has on George's hip to keep him still. George whines, suddenly loud and desperate, and he's too far gone to feel embarrassed about it.

"Oh, love," murmurs Harry, nuzzling George's throat. "Tell me what you need, do you need my mouth on you? Is that what you want?"

The thought of it is too much for George to -- he can't find words. He feels all swimmy and buzzing with energy even though he can tell his body is still _wreck_ -exhausted and all he can manage to say is a broken little whimper that he hopes sounds as much like "yes yes yes" as it does in his head.

"Alright, it's alright," Harry soothes. "Keep your hips still for me, okay?"

George smudges his face into the pillow. That's as close to a nod as he can manage.

Harry kisses his cheek and then slides himself underneath George in a move that really shouldn't be possible, but Harry seems to manage it alright. George keeps his hips as still as he can, which means they're still moving a little, but he has to hope that's still enough.

"Good boy," Harry murmurs, and he pats George's stomach lightly to reinforce his words.

George moans as Louis's tongue does something fancy; he's very good at that, doing fancy tricks with his tongue that make George want to pass out. Harry is, too, if the way he flicks his tongue against the head of George's cock is any indication.

George has never had Harry's mouth on him before, and he suddenly wonders in a little, floaty, green thought that slowly paddles its way across the back of his brain that maybe, maybe, that's because it's so good it may actually kill him.

The combination is going to be too much, he already knows. Louis's mouth and Harry's mouth all at once, it's a wonder he hasn't just collapsed already. Louis has slowed down, though, his tongue just a gentle pressure now instead of pressing inside him, just little licks that make George shudder almost constantly.

Harry is good with his lips, soft and sucking, easing George deeper into his mouth until George can feel that he's nudging at Harry's throat.

That's when he starts making noises that he's not sure are even human, babbling and wavering in and out, and he's trying to tell them how good it is but he can't manage it. He thinks they understand, though. 

"Ungh," he settles on, his hips jerking forward a little. He can feel the pressure building and bites his lip hard, his head dropping until his chin touches his chest.

Louis' tongue pokes inside him again, and George is gone. He can't think about anything except LouisnHarry, HarrynLouis, LouisnHarrynLouisnHarryn _George_ , _their_ George and they're being so good to him. He's whimpering and keeps babbling; he might actually be crying a little bit, he's so wrung out.

Harry's mouth fits over the head of his cock tightly and George thinks he might actually be crying when he comes this time, his face damp with either sweat or tears. Harry doesn't stop sucking him through it and it's all too much, so much it hurts.

Louis stops first, and George can't hear the quiet, firm _enough, Harry_ that makes Harry finally pull away. Louis keeps holding George up with an arm around his waist while Harry rolls out from beneath him, and then George is slumped on the bed, half-watching and half-drifting while Louis curls around Harry. Harry makes soft sounds, stroking himself off against George's hip. George doesn't even really mind, even though his hip's all wet now and Harry's cuddling close so George can't even use the sheet to wipe it off. Really, Harry's very lucky George likes him so much.

Harry kisses George's hair, humming a song that sounds familiar but George can't place.

He holds onto that, though, to the sound, trying to figure out what it is because he knows that if he doesn't have that to focus on, he'll just drop back off to sleep. He feels warm and drowsy in the best way but he doesn't want to sleep, still wants to spend time with Louis and Harry that isn't sleeping or rife with sexual energy.

Louis leaves them for a minute, Harry holding George and humming, and George can hear the padding of Louis' feet as he takes the stairs two-at-a-time and returns with more glasses of water and a cup of tea, which he hoards for his own.

"Mine," Louis snaps when Harry reaches for it, and George buries his smile in Harry's chest.

"I just wanted a taste," Harry protests with what sounds like a spectacular sulk on. "You never let me have a taste."

"Because it's never just a taste." Louis sounds weary. "I'll give you a taste and you'll take the whole cup, and then where will we be?"

George can't help the little pleased sound that escapes him, watching them -- even sulking, Harry's eyes are light when he's looking at Louis, and Louis' gaze at Harry over the rim of his teacup is glowing and fond.

"How're you doing?" Louis rubs George's back, offering him the other glass of water. "Drink up, don't want you getting dehydrated, do we?"

George dribbles down his chin in his haste to listen, and he blushes bright pink.

Louis just seems charmed, though, and he noses through George's hair to kiss his head. "You're so cute," he whispers. "Isn't he so cute, Harry?"

"He's cute," Harry agrees. "He's also gorgeous; isn't he, Louis, look at him." Harry runs his thumb over the apple of George's cheek. "Look at those cheekbones."

"You do like cheekbones." Louis sighs all happy and leans against George's shoulder. "You're so pretty," he murmurs to George, settling a hand on his thigh that's warm from the tea. "So pretty and so good for us. We like having you here, George. D'you like being with us?"

"I love it," says George quietly, letting himself smile and lean back against Louis. "I thought it might be a sort of one night thing. I'm glad it wasn't." He pauses. "JJ thought -- he asked if it was like, trading sex for your backing in the show. I don't like that he thinks I'm manipulative like that."

Louis's arm squeezes tightly around him, but it's Harry who speaks. "You know that's not it, though. We just like you, and you just like us. We know that's all, George." There's a pause where George can see that they're exchanging glances over his head. "We trust you."

George squirms a little, happy. "I trust you, too. Sometimes when I'm here it's like, my brain shuts off a bit 'cause I know you'll take care of me. Is that crazy? I think I sounded crazy just now."

"You don't sound crazy." There's another one of those glances they seem to share so often, before Louis continues. "We will take care of you, and you know we will. That's not crazy."

Harry kisses George gently. A simple kiss. "It's not crazy at all. I totally know what you mean. It was a bit scary at first, for me, 'cause I'd never felt like that before Louis."

George's mouth curls up at the edges. "Are you trying to get me to say this is the best sex I've ever had? Because it is; you don't need to goad me into it."

Harry barks out a laugh and it's like he's made of fucking sunshine; his eyes scrunch shut and his head falls back and his neck is long and lean and beautiful. It's a laugh that makes George laugh, too, his nose wrinkling up.

From beside them, Louis huffs a laugh of his own under his breath. "My silly boys," he says quietly, ruffling George's hair and then reaching over his shoulder to get at Harry's as well.

"Louis gets bitter whenever anyone else in the room gets a bigger laugh than he can," Harry confides, whispering like he and George are together in a grand conspiracy.

Louis tugs at one of Harry's curls. "Hush your mouth, Styles. I don't know why you bother talking, anyway."

"People like when I'm talking," Harry insists. "Nick says when I'm on his show, he's actually got good ratings."

Louis tweaks the end of Harry's nose, hard. " _What's the rule_?"

"Even I know the rule," George chirps.

"You've turned against me," Harry says sadly, leaning his forehead onto George's shoulder. "Been around a week and some and already throwing his rules in my face."

"I only know that one," George protests. He finally feels like he can move his limbs of his own volition again, so he brings his hand up to card his fingers gently through Harry's hair. "But I'll be careful to follow it."

"You don't even know Nick," grumbles Harry, but his mouth is curved into a smile against George's shoulder. "Not fair that I'm the only one who'd ever break this rule."

"Well, he's obsessed with George, too," Louis mutters darkly. "Anyway, now you've got me breaking my own rule! Bollocks!"

"My diabolical plan come to fruition," says Harry with an air of satisfaction. "I'll get you saying his actual name one of these days."

"Never," Louis grumbles. "The only names I want to say naked are Harry... and George."

George probably feels too nice about that statement, but nobody knows it but him, so it's allowed, he thinks. "Very flattered," he says, hoping his tone comes off as dry as he wants it to. He doesn't think it does, though, because Louis kisses the back of his neck and Harry snuggles into his front.

"Are you tired again?" Louis asks in George's ear, one of his arms wrapping snugly around his waist. "Did you want to go back to sleep?"

George shakes his head and tries to battle the yawn brewing up under his ribs. "I want to stay awake." He yawns valiantly. "Not tired."

"Of course you're not." Harry sounds very indulgent. "Maybe we could just lie down and close our eyes."

George feels warm and sleepy and satiated and protected. He knows he won't get voted out of the show; he thinks, maybe, things will be better back at the hotel now that he has JJ in his corner. And he has Louis and Harry with him now, cuddled close and still smoothing their hands over his skin. "Okay."

"Okay," Harry repeats. He kisses George again softly.

Louis kisses the side of George's neck. "Sleep," he whispers. "Harry can take you home in the morning. We've set an alarm."

George stretches and there's a pleasant ache in all of his muscles. "I'm all messy."

"No one will know under your clothes," Louis promises, and George knows that he's telling him not to shower again before the show tomorrow. To go onstage with the remnants of Harry's come on his hip, their sweat all over his body.

"Okay," he agrees, though he shouldn't at all. He'll feel sticky and disgusting all day. But he'll also feel _owned_ , a little, and, well. That's alright.

George nestles his head on the pillow. Harry's curls are in his face, and the come drying on his skin feels sticky-crackly and honestly gross. Louis's skin is so _hot_ all against his back, and the stubble of Louis' chin is itchy on the back of George's shoulder.

He has never been more comfortable.

George doesn't have the pleasure of waking up slowly because the alarm that Harry and Louis have set is louder than anything he's ever heard before. He groans in distress and tries to burrow into the nearest chest to block out the sound.

"No, no, no." Harry peels George away from Louis. "We have to deliver you back to the Corinthia now, unless you want to explain paparazzi photos of you looking well-fucked and being dropped off by Harry Styles, The World's Biggest Slag."

"Don't care," George grunts, letting himself sag back against Harry's body. "Let 'em see. Let me sleep. No," he says as though that settles it. "Sleeping."

Harry kisses the back of George's neck. "Sorry, love."

"For what?"

Harry flips George bodily over his shoulder and dumps him in a heap on the cold floor. "That." He looks down at George, where he's pouting sulkily up at Harry. "It's how I have to wake Lou up four mornings out of five."

"G'way," Louis mumbles. He bats out in his sleep. "Geroff... hate you."

"Why would you ever do that to anyone?" George hates being cold and naked and tired. Well, mostly cold and tired. He's alright about nudity. He grumbles as he crawls to his feet, giving the bed a longing look. It's so big and comfortable and it's got Louis in it. George has a fleeting desire to just skip the results and stay here forever.

"Because otherwise we'd've never made it through X Factor," Harry answers promptly. "Much less anything else after. Early mornings are a necessary evil for the young popstar."

"I'll have to remember that," George yawns. "Next time I get asked for the best advice I've got from One Direction."

"Stop talking," Louis groans, yanking the blanket up over his head. His voice is muffled when he continues. "M'trying to _sleep_ , go be cute with each other elsewhere."

Harry laughs softly. "Fancy a tea?"

"D'you have coffee?" George asks, and he feels a little brighter -- as he does every morning -- when he remembers that coffee exists in the world.

"Probably, yeah, unless I had the last of it at some point. I don't think I did, though." Harry looks considering. "How do you take it? I'll get it ready while you get dressed."

"Very sweet?" George asks hopefully. "Also, I don't know where my clothes are."

Harry looks him over. "You can just wear something of mine," he offers, nodding. "You're about my size. As long as you don't mind?"

George feels warm and happy at the idea of wearing Harry's clothes all day. Like a badge of honor. "I don't mind at all."

"Good. That set of drawers, there." Harry gestures toward the drawers he means before pecking George on the head and giving him another squeeze. He walks out the door just as he is, naked as the day he was born. George supposes all the stories about him must be true, then. Well, he amends, giving Louis in the bed another glance, not all of the stories.

George looks through the set of drawers and his eyes alight on a soft, worn gray shirt with a red heart over the chest. He slips it over his head and digs out a pair of chinos. He doesn't bother with pants.

Harry's eyes light up and he laughs a little when George finds his way into the kitchen.

"'Lover,'" he reads from the heart on George's shirt. "That's cheeky."

"I thought it was a bit appropriate." George smiles hopefully at him, rubbing one wrist over his eye. "Coffee?"

"Don't have any here," Harry says apologetically. He glances out the window, considering. "We could try to make a coffee run?"

"Coffee," says George desperately. He can barely keep his eyes open and the way Harry's shirt is just a bit too big for him is making him feel all comfortable and warm inside again.

Harry laughs and takes his car keys from a hook on the wall. "Alright, love, let's find your shoes. Come on."

When they get outside, George flushes at the sight of the black sedan, remembering last night.

Harry lets out a warm laugh next to him as he pops on his sunglasses. "Fond memories?" he guesses, unlocking the car.

"I was so nervous," George admits. "When I didn't know it was you driving, I mean."

Harry looks at him sidelong as they both slide into their seats. "You'd've said no if you were really uncomfortable, right? Louis comes on strong, but. He'd've stopped if you needed."

"I know." George smiles to himself. "It was sort of fun, though, you know? Knowing we could be caught at any moment. Knowing someone could see."

Harry smiles, but it doesn't quite touch his eyes. "It's fun until it becomes your whole relationship. I'm -- sorry, yeah, that we have to start at that point already."

George hesitates before he reaches over and sets his hand on top of Harry's. "It must be hard," he says quietly. "To be you. I don't know if people think about that enough."

Harry pauses just before he backs out of the drive, and instead, he leans over and kisses George, soft and clinging.

It's not meant to lead anywhere, so George doesn't try to make it. He just kisses back sweetly, his fingertips brushing over Harry's cheek.

"You're a good one," Harry murmurs, and nuzzles his nose along the side of George's. "Let's go find you some coffee, yeah?"

"Mhm." George smiles, catching one last kiss from Harry's lips before he leans back in his seat. He moves his hand to settle lightly on Harry's thigh, though, wanting to be touching him in some way even if they can't be kissing.

Harry avoids Costa and Starbucks, trying to keep away from places where fans -- of either of theirs -- are likely to be fueling up for a good day's skulking. He finds a cafe instead that looks like the back end of a brickyard, and they have to climb a flight of steps down into a cellar to find the front door.

"Proper dodgy," George comments. "Are you actually a serial murderer?"

"You've guessed it. I hide behind the curly hair. Inside me lurks a killer." Even as he says it, Harry's got a dimple poking into his cheek, so George feels pretty safe going inside with him. The hand on his lower back doesn't hurt, either.

Harry orders a plain latte and George gets his usual extra-sweet vanilla, plus a pasty. Harry only eats a banana for breakfast, and George wonders with slight despair after he's already gulped half of the pasty whether that isn't the difference between Harry's chiseled abs and his own soft frame. Mentally making the decision to eat more fruit, he licks his lips free of crumbs before he searches his brain for something to talk to Harry about that doesn't involve sex. 

"So, how was your week?" he finally chooses, and then immediately wishes he'd said almost anything else.

Harry grins at him. "It was good. Went to Dublin. Paris. Got a few tattoos. Erm, went to Sweden, hung out with Nick and Taylor Swift. That's about all. You?"

George blinks. "I rehearsed one song all week."

"Sounds about right, thinking back to when I was on the show," Harry agrees. "It's weird to think you're older than me, when you're doing now what I was doing two years ago."

George blushes a little at that, even though it's just a factual statement. "Yeah."

"I don't mean anything by it," adds Harry, frowning a little. "That did sound a bit up myself, didn't it? I try not to. Just tell me if I'm getting a bit diva. Or give me a smack, that's what the boys do."

George smiles a little. "They seem nice, mostly. Do -- they know about, like. You're real friends with them, I mean?"

"Real, proper friends," Harry confirms, his smile twisting a little. "It's funny, when we get that question from interviewers, I hate it, but from you it's alright. You're asking if they know about me and Lou?"

"Yeah, and just," George makes a broad gesture, "You all met for the first time doing the show and it seems like you've known each other your whole lives. It's nice, I guess. It's weird, you guys remind me of Micky and Greg and Dan, who really have known each other their whole lives."

"It feels like we've known each other forever, it really does. I miss them when I don't get to see them, and sometimes I'll pop round unexpected and make Zayn come out with me, or get Niall to come over and bring food." Harry shrugs. "They really are my best friends. I can't imagine living without them."

George looks -- and feels -- a bit wistful. "I was close with Dan at college, before -- before I got bullied out and went to the extension program. Ella goes to the same school, too, so maybe I should've stuck around. She's probably my best friend now."

"You're really close with her, aren't you?" Harry asks, a small smile on his face. "I assumed, 'cause you told her about all this, but I'm glad you have a friend. I've been a bit worried about you, with all your band issues."

"You know, they're literally the only ones I don't get on with as mates yet," George laughs ruefully. "I'm still, you know, used to do shows with Dan and them, so we hang out, and Ella of course. And Melanie's really sweet, like a mum. I _love_ Charlie. It's just, I worry that it'll come out onstage that Josh and I aren't clicking, when the other groups are so close to each other."

"You can't really tell on the show, I don't think. And I'd hope people know that your situation is different; I mean, Liam and I didn't click at first, either. It takes some time to get it right. Once you figure out how to deal with each other, it's a lot easier." Harry smiles at him. "You sing together brilliantly, though, and that's really what it should be about."

George smiles and ducks his head. "Flatterer."

"Being honest," Harry insists. "Still being honest: When I watched them at boot camp, I didn't think they were anything great. But with you, they are. You're special, and you make them special."

George covers his face with one hand. It's too early in the morning and he's had far too little sleep to be able to process Harry Styles complimenting his music. It's one thing when they're in bed and Harry is cooing over George's body or his ability to take direction -- and that, even, is almost impossible to reconcile to himself later -- but George lives for music and to have Harry Styles telling him that he's good... it's something else entirely.

"You're blushing," Harry says, a smirk in his voice. "You really are too cute, love. I'm glad we found you." He drains what's left of his coffee.

"I worry you only find me cute because everyone says we look alike," George informs Harry, grinning. "I might be developing a Narcissus complex."

"I find you cute because you're cute, and I have a thing for cute boys with button noses." Harry pushes his cup away. "Almost finished?"

"Yeah, I'm done," George confirms, "And you're also cute. Just so we're all on the same page here."

Harry's dimple is back, and he tips George a wink as he slides out of his seat. "Right, same page. Good to know." He reaches out to squeeze George's shoulder.

They settle back into the car, but George touches Harry's wrist before he starts it up.

"Wait." He leans across the seat and kisses the corner of Harry's mouth. "Don't know when the next time I'll get to do this is."

Harry tucks his lips into his mouth for a moment as he nods, then kisses George's lips. "We'll see you again, soon. Promise," he adds, grasping George's hand to give it a rub with his thumb.

"Okay," George says. "Kiss me anyway, please."

"Demanding," murmurs Harry, but he kisses George again despite it. He lets this one last, his eyes closing and his thumb moving in gentle circles over the back of George's hand.

When Harry finally pulls back, he smiles at George and carefully arranges George's fringe.

"Don't ever cut your hair," he declares, and starts up the car to take them the rest of the way to the Corinthian. "I mean, like, don't go all Yeti, but basically, keep it like this. You look cute and scandalous at the same time."

"Like you, you mean?" George smiles. "It's not going to help the comparisons, you know."

"Maybe I don't mind them." Harry eases the car back onto the road and focuses on scoping out for paparazzi and fans as they approach the X Factor contestants' home-away-from-home.

"I don't really mind them, either," admits George. "Could be worse people to be compared to, couldn't there?"

Harry's expression goes flat. "Once, when I was out with Nick, some woman thought I was Frankie Cocozza."

George slaps a hand over his mouth, but his shoulders are shaking as a dead giveaway. "That's awful," he mumbles, ducking his head.

"I know!" Harry sounds indignant. "Nick still thinks he got the raw deal because she thought he was my dad, but really, being Frankie Cocozza. I can't imagine anything worse."

"Well," George suggests, "Maybe being Frankie Cocozza's dad?"

Harry glances over at him thoughtfully. "You know, you've a very good point there. I'm saying that to him next time he goes off about everyone secretly thinking he looks old."

"Why does Louis hate him so much?" George asks.

Harry's smile slips a little. "Easy, there, George. We like you a lot and we trust you implicitly, but... there's some things... don't dredge them up. You were right that things can -- kind of suck, being us, sometimes. That's all."

"Right," says George softly. "Sorry, I didn't mean to be nosy, or anything."

Harry pats his hand. "It's okay. Most things, I don't mind sharing at all, just I know Louis... wouldn't like that one. He's sensitive."

"Yeah, I could tell." George huffs out a laugh. "I'm still sorry. I shouldn't have asked, it's not my place at all."

Harry shrugs. "If we expect you to share what's going on with you, it's only fair you expect the same. Got to be open with each other, mostly, if this is going to work." Harry glances at George. "You _do_ feel like you can be honest with us, right? About -- whatever?"

"I don't feel like there's anything I'd have to be _dis_ honest about, if that's what you mean." George shifts in his seat to look at Harry more comfortably. "I don't really have very many secrets. I'd say you're my biggest, and you already know about you."

Harry giggles. "So I do." He thinks for a second, his brow furrowed. "What I mean is, I guess, if you want something or don't want something or want something a different way, you need to tell us, even during, 'cause we can't guess."

"Oh, well, yeah." George frowns. "I really just want to be -- good, for you, I suppose." He flushes a little at saying it so boldly. "That's all I want."

Harry is quiet for a minute as they cut through an odd side-street to avoid a gaggle of girls in James Arthur shirts. "For... only us? Or like, if not, that's okay, just we need to know for. Reasons. Of things."

"I don't really, er." George pauses to gather his thoughts. "I don't want this to sound as clingy and terrible as it probably is, but I haven't really _wanted_ to do anything with anyone else, if that makes sense? Like, it's not even crossed my mind. I haven't even looked."

George sneaks a peek at Harry through the corner of his eye. He's smiling, so George thinks things will turn out alright.

"Well," Harry says, "Good. Erm, get tested, though, please."

"Is there a way to do that, discreetly?" George wonders. "I don't really want that on Sugarscape or wherever."

Harry laughs outright at that. "They do love reporting on such things. I've never been caught, though. Which you'd think should clue people that I'm not sleeping with literally two or more separate individuals per day, really."

"Well." George gives him a half smile. "Maybe not or more, at least."

It takes Harry a moment, but then he almost curls in on himself laughing. 

"Oh, _god_!" he croaks, "I've _never_ wanted to prove _Sugarscape right_!"

George nearly sparkles at how he's made Harry bubble over, sitting straighter in his seat. "Maybe we won't tell them, then. Just keep it between ourselves."

"They'll report on it anyway," Harry sniffles, still gazing at George with so much affection that his pupils are almost visibly the shape of hearts. "They have a way to ferret these things out."

"Oh, yes, top journalism, that Sugarscape. Ace reporting and all." George nods solemnly. "I check it every day."

"I really do," Harry says seriously. "They do an awful lot of reporting on you and Ella."

George frowns a little. "Yeah, I've seen that. I wish I could just be friends with someone without something sordid going on."

Harry gives George a long look and George rolls his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, hello kettle, I'm pot."

Harry laughs. "You're going to have to deal with that your whole career, yeah. You can't just have lunch with people anymore, sorry. You're probably fucking them in the bathroom." He pauses. "Unless they're a guy. Then the fans think you're fucking him, but the papers? No, he's a mate. Obviously."

George shakes his head in a bit of incredulity. "I can't believe you've dealt with all that without going mad, to be honest. I don't know if I could."

Harry gives him a secretive little smile full of dimple and pink lips. "We all find our ways of coping. Seems you already have, you know. Lucky."

"I am, aren't I?" George gives Harry his own smile, which he imagines isn't as sly. It's probably just as content and grateful as he is.

Harry touches the back of George's hand -- and then they're pulling up to the garage of the hotel, and there might be spies lurking anywhere, so they can't do anything more.

"We'll be watching tonight," Harry says. "You'll be wicked."

"I'll be extra wicked, just for you." George turns his hand over to squeeze Harry's just once before he lets go. "Give Louis a kiss from me?"

"Of course, and probably some that aren't from you," Harry says. He glances in the rearview mirror and does a double-take. "I think Ella is spying on us from the valet's booth. She's wearing very strange glasses, though, so I'm not sure."

"What?" George leans over to look for himself. "Oh, my God. I'll tell her off, or something, I'm sorry. She's too involved in my sex life, I think."

Harry chuckles. "I don't mind. Hold on, give me a kiss, then. Don't want to disappoint her."

"You're sure?" George looks at him a bit askance. "You don't have to, if it's weird."

"No, go on," Harry says. "Louis and I used to kiss all the time for Caroline."

"Well, now I'm never going to be able to not think of that while I'm talking to her," George murmurs, leaning in and pressing his lips against Harry's.

Harry kisses him sweetly and tastes like bitter latte and banana on George's tongue. His long fingers slip up just under the hem of George's shirt -- Harry's shirt, really, George thinks, and thrills a little again -- to smooth over the hard smear of dried come on George's hip.

George smiles, and leans his forehead against Harry's when the kiss finally breaks. "I don't think I'll ever get tired of that," he mutters.

"Good." Harry gives him a little squeeze. "We'll talk later. Don't shower today, remember. I want to watch the show and know we're still on stage with you."

"Okay," George promises. "And I will. Erm, get tested. I'll let you know."

Harry smiles. "Good. Alright, go, before Ella comes over and starts fogging my windows."

"I wouldn't put it past her," George warns him, but he clicks off his seatbelt and opens his door anyway. "I'll see you?" he adds, already half out of the car but needing that last bit of reassurance.

Harry smiles softly. "Really soon. I've got to go, if I don't bring lunch back for Lou he'll get stroppy."

George smiles and shuts the car door. He raises his hand in a wave as Harry drives away, and then turns to the valet booth where Ella is pretending to have only just come downstairs.

"Oh!" she coos, "George, you're back! Fancy that!"

"Yeah, fancy that," George says, coming up and giving her a mock glare and a grin. "Voyeur."

"Just making sure that you're alright and didn't get abducted to _live in a cage in their bedroom_ or anything," Ella says loftily. She bounds over to him.

"Oh, no, Ells, I probably reek, I haven't showered..." George trails off as Ella throws her arms around his neck and buries her face into his chest.

"Mmm," she hums happily. "You smell like magic and dreams."

"That tells me an awful lot about you I'd've preferred not to know, actually." George wraps his arms around her in return, anyway. "Shouldn't you be doing something productive instead of waiting around for me to get back, you creep?"

"No," Ella says, "I'm 100-to-1 to win, I can do whatever I want. Mostly right now I want to hear every dirty detail and smell your neck for a while."

"Well, you can't do either of those things down here." George tries to look around with her still hanging around his throat. "Come on, let's go up to mine and I'll tell you -- _some_ dirty details. Definitely not all."

He cocks his head. "Hop up. I'll give you a ride up to the rooms."

Ella grins and jumps up so George can carry her piggy-back.

"I really can't see why anyone things we're in a romance," says George breezily. "Maybe I should drop you, then they'd forget all about it."

"Don't you dare," Ella says. "I have so, so much that I could blackmail you with now. For example, did you know that when you kissed Harry Styles, I could see right up your nose? Very attractive."

"I'll bet it was, too. I don't think anything can be unattractive when Harry's that close to it." George shifts his arms a little just to jar Ella. "And don't act like you didn't love it all the while, Miss Henderson."

Ella squeaks and tightens her grip around his shoulders. "I did," she admits, swooning a little. "But... mostly because I'm glad you have someone to make you so happy."

George ducks his head to hide the smile on his face. "Shut up," he says gruffly. "I really will drop you," he adds, even though he never would and they both know it.

"You are seeing them again, though, right?" asks Ella as they navigate the hallways, dodging crew and contestant alike. George waits until they're basically alone before he responds, smiling to himself.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'll see them again."

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